Abruptly, though not without warning, the train began to ease away from the tracks. The fact that all this occurred “in my mind” does not in any way mitigate its reality. It moved South and in its wake were snow-capped mountains and an impossibly blue sky. On the speakers, one could hear a singing vaguely reminiscent of John Denver. “Justice,” someone said, their face smudged and in their hands a polemic I would never read.
A purple light – one element of the spectrum – against which shadow was measured. It appears that your enlightenment has been postponed to another day. Yet more famous people have adopted your spiritual path and the fact that you experience this as a loss will no doubt displease our common father. I walked well beyond the limits of soap and conversation, arriving at last at a quiet place where prayer was possible. And yet at that moment the southbound geese passed, a raucous din that returned me to the world.
Is this writing the superior writing? After all, making sense was never more sensible than now. Against the backdrop of the infinite, there is little that can be measured. We are trying to communicate, which is to say that we are trying to carry something home to ourselves. Years later, that empty room above the homeless shelter would seem more and more special, as if God had a plan that was capable of being ignored.
Forever is as smoke does. I recall the pain of you leaving. Once you get over the story in the mirror, you can see the mirror. At the window, the music of unknowable birds. In my mind, an emptiness and a long walk, both inevitable, both for blessing.