Reincarnation versus pounding headaches.
There’s no chance becoming enlightened
In December, as sang Frank Sinatra, singing.
Or did I get there today by way of having admired comedy for its ever
buoyancy?
Daily and steadily is my perception of the entrance
Key to the spiritual realm.
I practice in ways as different from one coffee café’s brews
Regularly as one or two cups, maybe foamed and cinnamon sprinkled.
The easiest joys are how and why and when?
And then, this and that and those times whirring
Creating its own whir.
Being inside I arrive at the eternal.
Just as I arrive I leave empty handed
Having had the key for a whir of peace and joy and inner and outer love.
I arrive once again into the arms of love right here
In memory of the curling take-off
In the presence of lasting send-off
Tethered to the key that hides and reappears endlessly.