off the straight and narrow

i need to take a long vacation

from this bodily angst,

sit on top of a hill and meditate

like in the old days,

without thoughts about hunger or thirst

or what time it is

or what pills to take

or what i did then

or what was done to me.

i want to feel wind and rain

on naked vulnerability,

to sit absorbed

in a single tangible thing,

my breath in and out,

not the worn out dreams

surrendered in illness

nor where i should go

or how i should get there

but here in this moment

which is the only place i own

yet over which i have no control

nor would i want it

for therein lies my freedom.

there's a path i can take

that was custom-made for me,

the trees and shrubs carved

by wind and dessication,

sand crushed from grand caverns

sifted and gathered and

making this way meandering;

yet i have no fear of losing my way

because the sun rises in the east

and sets in the west,

as does venus with her fierce lovelamp,

and these things do not vacillate.

i put one foot in front of the other

to climb the scraggy path

up to the summit of the dune,

with a symphony of waves

and seagulls gliding in air currents

and hundreds of sanderlings

running frenetically through foam:

and when i sit like that,

brought there by my own two feet,

i feel a sense of unionizing peace,

as one of a gazillion stars in a
heavenly vista that rolls on and on,

eternally evolving,
creating path after path,

reaching one or another resting point

for weary pilgrims.