i write for inner peace.
To study the Way is to study the self.
To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened to the myriad of things.
-Dogen, Zen Priest
I know nothing
of the way, but I'm on it-
a current bound for the coast,
a soul bound for birth,
the blur of a face on a night train bound for Orlando
from a hermitage in what might as well be the mountains
with a hometown name I made up-
The House of Flying Cards,
I used to tell them-
overlooking their communities off the edge of their map,
the glow of their windows and the jam sessions
buzzing within as distant as their stars above.
I train alone not on the shoulders,
but in the shadows, of their giants,
by the window of this train rattling toward their skyline-
no ID tag, unregistered, and therefore
I represent the null and the void, I'll tell them,
and state in the manner of Samurai from long ago
my truth and mission:
I came not to be fooled, or to see moves,
but to be moved;
not to be puzzled, or to see them puzzling each other
to a stumped standstill:
I came to see the big picture
these puzzle pieces complete.
I don't want to buy their tricks, gimmicks, or gadgets,
but to discover their priceless secrets
hidden beneath the leaves
of these pages as notes are jotted upon them
in a frayed composition book of nameless effects,
unpublished poetry, and un-booked show scripts no one will see.
I didn't come for their autographs, their passport-like stamps
of name-validating approval, or the music of their praises sung out loud:
I seek new ears with which to hear their perspectives.
As I'm nameless, I'm also formless,
so I seek impact
with each outlook-breaking act
they can hit me between the eyes with.
In the tradition of travelers, I seek new eyes
with which to stay awake and read
the stories behind the names of their greatest teachers,
the gleam of their souls behind those stories
as they tell it in a bar just before last call.
As I'm no one, I seek for a moment to become one
with this lost magic civilization of which I've exiled myself from,
no ID, cup emptied,
I'll have it filled to the brim with another beer,
the cheers of our reunion
breaking the night and all the silence between.
The Move Unseen
A blog for magic.