tools

lying in bed last night:
doubts, imaginings, inferences,
conclusions, connections, reasons:
a tangled undergrowth,
clawing at body, legs, ankles.
the only way forward is to use a machete*
boldly.
it isn't a question of blocking my ears and singing tra-la-la;
it needs to be more focussed than that.

the space where I thought you were;
you still are.
this I know
the word 'nada': a mantra in my mind:
nothingness
hideous to me at the moment;
but look at it! look at it! you say.
nothingness: no-thing-ness.
don't confuse this with death!
the opposite is true!
meanwhile the only life I know:
an anchor tied to my feet.

one way forward
you have the key you say.
the key, the key - another mantra -
how many doors can there be?!
don't worry about the doors:
the doors are not to be looked at,
or admired
or pondered upon
or painted
or counted
or even touched;
the doors are there to be opened.

it's unhappy me searching again for the happiness of we:

* the two-eged sword?