there are worlds in us, but they fall apart
so fast. the meat is a quick instant
then nothingness is. nirvana
is not selfless, if it is awareness.

the ego is not the self, but both
go. nowhere is where they are
if they are our fathers'. and mine
is yours just a while,

not through inconstancy of love,
but just the slow vanishing
of a man, of aware me, slowly
eroded by time. it's nothing bad,

really, not exactly a crime,
if not precisely nice


© 2009 by David McLean. All rights reserved.