Thursday, July 03, 2008

Spiritual Poem
years of taking lefts


It’s something like a taxi. And
the taxi driver is completely
unreliable, and always
taking detours to some thought,
or even worse, intense belief.
But practice is a map that holds
the driver honest... When you’ve lastly
reached your destination, after

years of taking lefts correcting
every wrong-turned right, you find
yourself, instead of by the water
you requested, in the desert,
all alone, the last words of
the taxi driver echoing
within the silence of your being:
oh, this taxi doesn’t go there.

~Son Rivers 2008

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