Self-Styled Bodhisattva Vow to Save the Species
I won’t bother to look for bliss.
I’ll content myself in the mitigation of
suffering and in the effort to help others.
For that is a path forward, no matter
how many twists and turns must be navigated,
no matter how winding the cliched and storied path.
This is a one-stop shop, for all we know,
so it is wise and prescient of us to gather
rosebuds while we may, lest they be unavailable
tomorrow, for lack of stock in house, or merely
the wrong season for searching.
Sci-fi scientists look in the farthest most remote
atmospheres for life and red herrings, myths
to live by and fantasies to smoke, magic dragons to puff.
But that is all for an imaginary tomorrow, cowering
in fear of a fictionalized past that has sworn
revenge on the far-fetched future.
Such are the menu options for consciousness,
three dimensions three tenses three personal
pronouns and a pocket full of tissues.
The choices are ours, to run and hide
or to stand and fight, with possibly a third
option still grooming on the side.
Regardless of the ultimate method and final
forage for fruit, though, just remember that we
should all be civil, and polite, and seek our highest
common denominators, not sink to our lowest…



Yes, I’m talking about that theoretical ghost in each of our machines. So the first time a human being saw his reflection in still water must have been incredible, our hero unbelieving, disbelieving, unsure if what’s he’s seeing is really him, himself, and so now aware of self, for maybe the first time, previously only aware of everything other…
There are two kinds of people in this world. How many times have you heard that? That the world can be divided between optimist or pessimists. LA people or San Fran people. Cubs fan or a White Sox fan, chick-flicks or action movies, Beatles or the Stones (yawn), or maybe even white meat or dark (we’re talking about chicken, unless you’re new to Thailand and the locals are looking for you a GF)…
…of religion, science, and life, too, the mostly unrequited wish that “it’s all written,” whether in script or bar-code, to the point of retro-fitting the logic that may or may not have actually led up to some fait accompli, though that accomplished fact was never predicted even at the point of inception. This is the need for happy endings, and the one overriding narrative that drives all others, the one theory of everything…

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