Singing Hallelujahs

You said "Thank you."

We have grown old enough to see
That striving in all this history leads us to disappointment
And try as we might, she burns, and there is an ending which is sadly,
Final.

Then we must go, gathered to shades and vapors,
Time out of mind.

Oh, for long years and even still
We try
But to capture the state and hold it long is never our pleasure
There is building up
And tearing down, it is The Saga.

We need routine as it manifests in cycle;
Cycles rule our lives but
Cycles roll, they do not hold.

(For years, it was 'hold' wasn't it?
Hold this
Hold that
Don't deviate
Don't break the rules)

There are some cycles that widely out span our own--
And viewed through a holding kind of lens
They are outrageously profligate

I'll measure an abundant wager that you cannot hold.
Over time, even if you are very, very good
You cannot.

Nothing in this manifest lives up to the ideal.
Reality requires fudging
To look right, to sound right, to fit
This entire physical entity does not quite follow the rules.
These are expectations.

Oh.
Then I can change my mind:

Life rolls on, in variations subtle and grand
Showing an infinity of expressions
For the unnameable it cannot truly say.
Life cartwheels on, one cycle after another
Demonstrating always another out spanning orbit
To our astonishment
It is A Raga.

I shall say, "Grace."
And, as you say, "Thank you."

Here is pleasure, as a man is delighted with his tumbling children
And all their antics and verbs.

And if indeed, it is within our grasp to change reality
And thereby, to fling open the shades
I say, then one has gone before time
And yes, among outcomes, there is a new thing
A Salvia for the murky vapors
An unction for the tragedies
A wine for the blood
That heals our coiling appetite
And withdraws us from the dust of death.