What will it be like to Remember?

Rumi advises we give up on this question¹.
My American football analogy goes like this:
this is not a first down that we’re after.
We can call out the chains and
ask for a measurement, but the
umpire will be dumbfounded
and probably feint.
Our questions are all boats without bottoms.
The instant replay,
on closer inspection,
will reveal ten million angels
on the nose of the football
down on one knee
taking instruction from Walter Payton
on how to jump over grown men
in a single bound.

A measurement to where, again?

Well, what of it…?
Are we there yet?
This week I was angry.
As a result, destitute and impoverished.
The star of my own zombie flick.
But my questions… those got lost in the heat.
Now in rags, I am thinning out,
losing my grip on the Important Unnecessary,
bleeding into the distance,
evaporating into this holy hunger,
becoming ecstatic once more.

The illusion of falsehood is self-regulating.
Time and impermanence are
our everyday saviors.
They keep stirring us up,
bringing us to a frothy boil,
heating us to a vapour
until finally… we’re gone.

I can’t go
for many days
without falling in Love
with You
all over again,
but you know that… don’t You?
You watch the level in the pot,
inhale the vapors as a prelude
to my final act of devotion,
and wait patiently for my
last drop of resistance
to disappear.

What will it be like to Remember?

You and I,
a scent the air,
Everywhere.

* * * * *

1 The inspiring lines from Rumi, translated by Barks:

“The mystery does not get clearer by repeating the question,
nor is it bought with going to amazing places.

Until you’ve kept your eyes and your wanting still for fifty years,
you don’t begin to cross over from confusion.”