Face to Face

The clouds grow thin enough to see through,
then the landscape disappears,
evaporated when backlit by the ten
billion illuminated names of God
sparkling in all directions as far as eye can see
into the distance all the way out to the vanishing point
where the big-bang eruption of energy churns endlessly,
beginninglessly the infinitely baroque adornment
of utterly unbroken emptiness
which is this whole vast stretch of space,
this incandescent centerless skinless sphere of knowing
that is never separate from us, never other,
unborn and undying ever-present Being.

The singing dancing music of our earlier utopian visions
echoes quietly among the ruins
here where the sand is already blowing through broken windows,
piling up in growing dunes
against cracked and peeling baseboards.

Coyotes forage for leftovers in the dark deserted city streets.

Weakened cats are low-lying fruit,
broken furry dripping pomegranates between
grateful grinning canine jaws
on the run, on the loping yipping run
under the full moon back to the wild river
naked and howling until we’re all hot and wet
between the reeds along the bank panting on our backs
watching the clouds rise from our breath
thin enough to see the stars through,
white with lunar silver,
laughing at the meaningless impermanent display
until the mindscape disappears,
evaporates when backlit by the single shining face of Being.