The Quest for the Immortal Self

21 February 2023

"After all, it is you and I who are perfect, not the next world."
  - Allen Ginsberg

Have we found it? I've looked
under every belief, and found nothing.
Not even despair, nor ecstatic
self-reformulation (the new dialectic)
can grant this old wish. But I wish
that our days were more even, that
sunshine and moonlight spoke softly together
and on equal terms. Do you hear?
There are so many hours left, then no more.
This is how it always goes, not enkindled
by immortal flame, but descending in whispers,
no longer itself, not the same. But this is not
the cause for more triumph, no celebrations here.
Rather, sleep, with its own quiet permanence,
must end each day, most men say,
yet it also begins the next day, fresh, anew.
I am speaking to you, and for you, but you know
more than I can ever say.