Mama Dharma

It’s a nice day for words to explain
About all the radiation stabbing our brains
What’s in, what’s out, it’s only what the sun can boast
You can never point to the tip of your finger
Every moment things seep in, invisible things that don’t care about skin
It hurts you only when you know, but most don’t know who they are
Is it two things, mind and matter,
Is it two things, life and death,
Or just one
One that can’t think beyond your next breath.
Our dharma used to call us for supper
But we have since invented a drive though purpose
To fit neatly fold into our purse
I curse, how I curse the horns that attempt me in the night
There are few who are left with virgin necks
For most have been silently converted
Yes it is evident, with red lust on their lips
Life has gone beyond itself
Mama dharma still drinks her tea
Back at home
Steady sips, one at a time
Counting “one, one, one”
She knows.
There is nothing but that very one.