Agony of Ati

Decades of being a human libation
The sputtering wick, channel of gods and demons
Ends with barely an acrid wisp of thought
And still-burning eyes of unhindered vision.
The point escapes me but for what reason?
Nothing comes between me and my refuge
Except lingering hangover, a fearful memory,
The many wrong turns made
Forgotten midnight vomits and pissings
Disconnected mornings of rising human wrecks
Always repurposed for new roles, parts and repairs.
Slowly I accept this ghost, living again this season
With lessening dreams, hopes and arrears,
Samsara cycles are no longer geared,
To keep pace with a genuine heart
That staggers and begs, a self-appointed leper
Beauty looks ugly and older than years.
Not arisen, not destroyed, nor resisted
Still it's annoying
To be patient, waiting and waiting,
On what never arose, is not arisen,
Nor will arise
To happen,
As choiceless choice
Accepting avoidance
Happily despairing
Leaning into the burn,
Feeling torn as the world grows
Row after row, mile upon mile
Of gold studded husks
Of future food for cattle, crows and worms.
Hogging the road one drives on and on
As though there were something to own
Something to truck and carry over.
It's time to wake up and smell the party
That's already always over before the fun begins
No getting favors or half-bottles to carry now,
For taking one step into the arctic blast on this new year
Means one moment is instantly frozen.