Days of Awe

These days pass over you there is nothing you turn into dust for from dust you came and time after time you pass by with the broom because that is how they taught you that a floor is to be swept and you move the dust that you are from here to there and when it seems to you that this change is for the better the wind comes along and scatters the whole pile and now go and start all over again

You will rake in a few compliments and the weary soul asks for sweetness because it isn't always pleasant to think about what the worms are doing

Even in good and lengthy days the wheel keeps on with its turning and there is one who goes and one who comes along the stream that they say is the source of salvations and a welling spring but all that can be seen is the water flowing from here to the Name

And when it seems to you that it is time to set sail onward windmills rise up before you and with turning wings they block your way or at least so it appears to you in the imaginings that open a window onto shapes that have no name

And you don't understand what war is raging against you and just as there is one who returns to what he returns to you meet it once a year

And a book in your hand a prayer book for these days and you don't know where to turn and where to set your feet leafing among the leaves insisting on finding what is written between the lines

And maybe it is only an illusion a grasping at nothing in the days that pass without your meaning them to your hair has turned gray and your hands are slack the order will come until then all that is left is to forget the language of habits to invent signs new ones no less awesome for these days