The Ultimate Disaster

Is living
In the moment
A walking of a tightrope
Between past and future?
Is it a peeling away
Of all the escape routes?
A letting go of the possibility
Of getting what we want
At some other moment
When we might be more mature,
Or more ready?
Or have put in enough work?

A falling from the
Imagined tightrope?
A vertical descent
Into whatever life has in store
Without control or containment
Of the perpetual disaster
That is life at its worst and best
All at once.

How is it
That having fallen thus
We have left behind need
For escape,
Need for a future
To come through for us,
Even the everpresent
Need for love?…
Finding ourselves
Instead, surrounded
Embraced by richness
Beyond measure,
Completely beyond our
Wildest imagining.

All our ideas
Of the past pale
Next to the vibrancy
Of life met without
The intermediary of
Ideas about what is
Being seen. Life stands
Forth as radiant and
Fulfilling already,
Even as some things
May be dying in agony
While others are
Being born.