The History of Feeling

I found, under a star

and the moon’s steadfast gaze,

not only the life I am living,

but all around me, under a rock,

on the far, ghosted end of the forest,

the many lives I’ve lived,

strung like vines

jumbled and obtuse,

hanging like a pearl of leaves

in the midnight dew.

Like flowers peppering a field,

like moss, velvety and complete,

the past in the guise of now,

convinces me utterly

of permeability, shadow in light,

of the density in the history

of what I feel.

The power of the story lives here.

Give me a moment and I’ll find

a reason, a cause, an association

where instead there might be

you, I, things in themselves,

beyond our wildest imaginings,

divested of our hope and fear,

containing everything we need,

containing nothing.

 

– tt