It wasn’t long ago that I realized
I don’t need to impress anyone,
And there is nowhere to go.
*
Boredom is the impediment to these realizations.
*
All my life it had been backgrounding my experience,
An amalgam of disgust, and anger,
And underneath it all,
A sadness which wished to ask,
“Is there more?”
*
Whole careers emerge in response to this emotion,
The constant search for the novel,
And the novel’s novel,
An infinitude,
All out of fear of the simple knot that is boredom.
*
In meditation this knot can dissolve,
Replaced by a peace which is the ultimate freedom.
*
The familiar bird’s call sears with luminescence,
The worn path delights in its contours,
The alarm clock renews us to a day which is identical to the last, but simultaneously enough.
*
Clear of yesterday’s dissonance,
A radiant truth resounds:
No, there is not more.
*
What else would you desire, dear child?
Jackson Holzberg Buckley 