by February 26, 2011 0 comments


Nanoseconds dance in the micro-universe. Perhaps, they speak to me, whispering secrets of Existence. Yet I can’t hear their murmurs. I can’t see their miraculous dance or poetic metamorphosis. And when they say goodbye, I don’t cry, I don’t respond. Yet in the dark caves of my psyche, I sense the inevitable change, the loss, the death.

Goodbye. How many times must I say this soul-wrenching word?

Nanoseconds whirl around a subatomic universe, merging with other nanoseconds until they vanish within swirling seconds destined to disappear too. All things end.

Goodbye. Within Space-Time, all things living and non-living inevitably say goodbye.

Seconds swirl around my being, enclosing and covering me with Space-Time, shielding me from other realities too frightening to imagine, until they connect and unite in the universe of minutes. Letting go of their fragile identities, they die in order to be reborn inside a vast sea of being and becoming.

Goodbye. I can’t bear this word that rips my soul into a thousand shards of barren wasteland. But it’s the way of human life that always begins and ends. Each goodbye is a sliver of death and dying. Within Space-Time, there’s no escape from the valley of the shadow of death. Inevitably, we die.

And so it goes. Minutes flow into hours and vanish. Hours merge and become days, disappearing in the relentless rush of time. Days slip into weeks and weeks into months like the antediluvian snake that slithers across the Garden of Eden. It glides stealthily and yet, like the falcon, flying furiously across a black sky with its long pointed wings and its short curved beak, it hunts and kills its prey. The dark flow of time seeks you and me and all creatures that exist and live in Space-Time. Ultimately, we are its quarry.

Goodbye. Now, the months merge and vanish within the dark years of Yesterday. Looking back to the beginning of my life seems an endless chore. That’s the way of human life and death. I’m not ready to say goodbye. Yet the end might come tomorrow. Or it might arrive decades from this poignant moment of reflection. I accept the dark way of human life. And still, I protest. I need more time, much more time to be and become and create.

So it goes. I’m a young old man of contradictions. I cherish my paradoxes and caress my will to live. It’s nestled in my mysterious soul and simultaneously whirls around my being. I’m not ready to say goodbye to life. But it’s up to G-d to know when.

Goodbye until you read my next creation. Every poem or story is a new beginning. Every word is a piece of my soul I wish to share with you.


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