the human conditon . . . and yet

All the years trying to explain
the spirit's wish, this wishing tree,
dropping seeds foolishly upon
common ground, this life,uprooted,
carried for meaningless distances,
groaning in thirst.

Is there a center to the emptiness,
a place where all the nonsense
becomes relevant?

Will I ever see anyone as they are?
Will anyone ever see me?

Sometimes truth is bearable.
It proves its worth . . . The delusions
drift apart and the sun bursts
through the seams, The heart is alone -
in every conversation the unspoken
haunting the fragile distances
of the Unspeakable, voice falling back
upon silence.

It strikes me that every seed
must surrender, crack open and die
into Life , , ,