Of This And That

Come, my friend, sit with me,

Let us speak of this and that

Tell me your sighs and your sorrows

Let me hear you

And scatter a few words

At your feet

To gather if they so please

you

 

Know this first

Until you have ached

And ground yourself into dust

In your labour

You have not known true exhaustion

And until you have known

Exhaustion

You have not known Rest

 

And until you have parched your throat dry

Whispering hoarsely after using

Your voice for all it had

Until you have thirsted truly

You have not known what it is to quench your

Thirst, what it is to be

Sated

 

Until you have wept your eyes dry

Of all tears

And your heart has been plucked

Clean out of your chest

Until you have known the blackness of despair

You have not known even an inkling

Of joy

 

Until you have felt the barrenness of

Your own soul, your anger

Your pain, your righteous fury,

Until you have felt the bitter tang of hate

You have not known- no you have not-

Even the first shade of

Love

 

Until you have been chased by the pangs

And emptiness of a cold hearth

And a colder plate

Until you have hungered for each grain of your

Nourishment

You have not known that each bite

Of an unsweetened, unsalted, mash

Can be the most royal delicacy on earth

 

Indeed, my friend, until you have yearned

With every ounce of your being

For the secrets that make the atoms spin

And the sun gift life

Yearned until all yearning is irrelevant

Until you have known a nothingness so complete that all dissolves

In its wake,

You will not know Anything and

Everything.

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One thought on “Of This And That

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