Ancestors never sleep
and always seem to know
what they’re doing.
How is this possible?
I ask myself.
Sometimes I am weary
enough to expire—
what a relief
I will think. No more obsessing
about this madness;
whatever it might be
this year, or even this century.
But ancestors merely
yawn
and send me off
for a nap.
Not only is life not over,
they sniff,
it has barely begun for you.
There are eternities
waiting just beyond
the next bad movie
you fear you’ll be
starring in.
Go to sleep. Rest your brain.
Rest your heart. Rest your eyes
and all your thoughts.
We have been with you
from the beginning
which didn’t exist
and we will be with you
until that moment of
nonexistence
swings round again.
You are attempting to carry
the suffering
all around you
Let us bear it for you.
Knowing as we do
that it is only
a difficult turn
on a never ending
journey
of dissolving
and becoming
and dissolving
again
and becoming
once more;
forever & ever
on
and
on.
Save despair,
our beloved
sweetcakes,
for a couple of eons
later.