When Alarm Clocks Stop Failing
written by: Arimaya Ryan
My day will fill out into eons
My body slows
To meet the spirit,
No faster than
A speeding ungulate
As I wipe from my brow
All the hours
Traded to owner-men
I find my hand dry and use it
To measure melting horizons
I am washed
In the rivers
Held deeply in her arms,
Of all the standards to appear
Appropriate
As I wipe from my brow
All the hours
Traded to owner-men
I let the river fall from me
In the gaze of the sun,
Who takes the whitewashing
Down a few tones
From there I am dressed
In breath,
My stomach swells
Exhaling, I leave
All that is unsaid in the air
As I wipe from my brow
All the hours
Traded to owner-men
Along the rows of garden beds,
Occupying every CBD,
My hands grow weary from shaking and greeting strangers in the unity of strangeness,
I can no longer write
But my smile is full and gives a thousand blessings of acceptance at every angle
I long for everything
Because it is right beside me
This full day is wider than my stride and deeper than I can trap breath for
And above me beyond the scope of confident conscious lyricism
The blackboards have all been wiped clear, making room for the Artist to show us another way
And here I share that other way
I take my place, reserved like all others
At the longest community dining setting any would dare to build
To know-one in particular, we pray and rise in cheer
No one eats
Until we all eat
And a wordless babble rumbles forth
I am satiated by my gifts to you and your neighbour
And you likewise
There are more than people with set place
More so than the people,
By a factor of billions
We each act according to the love of our Sacrality
Submerging at once
We initiate toward another direction
I approach the doorway holding open my changes,
Open to the one track
Winding and coursing into the somewhere else,
Treacherous only to the forgetful,
Which we are no longer
I cannot speak to beyond the mystery,
Will you agree to meet me there?
- When Alarm Clocks Stop Failing - March 11, 2020
