hypothetical beauty
hypothetical beauty
If I were an instrument capable
of rendering beauty
in the wake of dissolution
would it matter?
I’m not sure.
why do I care?
because I do.
and plainly,
because I am needlessly alone.
(pardon this digression,
but the fact that any of us are here in this time together
is miraculous and should be celebrated. )
that said, perhaps my vessel is cracked,
my bones out of tune,
lungs too scarred
to manifest something divine
for the nourishment of your soul
*
but in the mirror’s reflection
swims an hourglass within the pupil of my eye
full of television static
black ants chasing white ones forever
why do I anticipate mending
something that gives no indication of health?
Is it not my role
to hang myself with a broken halo of confusion
watch something beautiful tear apart
wishing only to remedy?
One night I dreamt I lost the moon.
that night (for a dream-lifetime) I toiled in sleep,
inarticulately groping
for the machinery to rewind the night sky.
*
Here, now in wakefulness
I gather comfort in impermanence
on both sides of its meaning:
in good moments
this practice allows the patterned thoughts to evaporate
and within this space I am able to reflect
on the trivial nature
of our very real and important storylines.
but in a darker cast
I recognize the long view
where mole-hills
made into mountain-sides
become grains of sand
in one blink of a giant’s eye.
in the long view I wonder:
what will become of us?
copyright Jonathan Bond 2013
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