Not Truthís Fault

 

Iím standing at this bar with all my friends,

These friends that passed away.

 

This is the point of no return.

Should tomorrow bring me one more day,

 

Iíll never have friends like them again...

We cannot live without meaninglessness

 

In our lives, without insignificance.

I hope I see them next time they pass through.

 

There is the fear of not even

Having an essence.

 

Spring shoots turn into dark summer stalks.

Autumn trees bend under winter snow.

 

Surely, as a passing mirage, few visions

Of the world are more subtle

 

Than birds, mists and bodhisattvas

Drifting across the sky.

 

 

18 December 2009

 

 

[Published in Mantra Winds: Poems 2004-2010.

© 2010 by Jim Cohn.]

 

 

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Mantra Winds
(MAP Publications, 2010)

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