from Ruminate
The Ascension
Instead of rising in the sky,
what if he had stayed,
laid down on the ground,
and said goodbye with an ineffable smile,
dissolving into a puddle
of something like water or a starless night sky,
his smile disappearing
until he was no more than a glint on the surface
before sinking into the land.
Then we would say of him
he is not a transcendent god.
We would say of the tree, Oh, there you are.
We would drink in the parousia of afternoon sunlight
and say to our friends I love you like dirt,
like ashes in the wind, I adore you
as you are lost to the underside of things,
to the pulse of quiet which answers
the thrust of light.
