When Knowings Visit

awynart

Even those wired to feel perpetual astonishment,

awed by life despite its darkest overwhelmings,

could face a time when wonder ceases -

and at that moment wonder

if it matters.  And if so,

what then? 
    And if not, 

        what then?

In either case, an astonishing conversation might take place

within
of what one can live without, or in spite of,
or without which life's not "Life",
as Life waits listening at the side,
its bag of gifts and horrors, 
never-to-be's, unimagined possibles,
opening and closing
opening and closing
opening and closing..

Such wonderings arrive,

on reading how others have met and dealt with
the cloudy grey of life's tossed mix
of the ever-meshing Dark and Light,
'mid one's own 'knowings'. 

A place I went to often

Mozart - Clarinet Quintet in A, K. 581 [complete]

Waiting for D.

     Thinking of D.

           Yearning for D.

D. is gone.  Those years are gone.

     Both dead, like Mozart.

A place  I still go to,

not just to remember who he was

but who I was

      and still am

and be reminded of what,

like certain music in life

(it's not all noise)

      is always there.

Nostalgia attack!  It all

comes flooding back

But you don't want to go back,

even if you could.

(Exchange it for the now?  Who would? and how?)

You're not the same, 

      and yet you are

. . .  mostly.

Saved-up scenes from flecks of  past

murmur out between the notes.

How sad and melancholy then,

how absolutely wrong at times,

as if I somehow knew but didn't; and when

finding so, look back and think,

despite it all

I've no regrets.

Rehear the melody, close the book.  It's done.

The Now, of which the Then is part,  all one,

layered, accessible,

turnonable or offable,

like 

Self.