a poet is instructed by the death of his master

    Know this:
    what the world provides
    you must give away in turn.
    Forgive its loss.

    When morning breaks
    into the room
    to tear you from sleep,
    do not mourn
    the night's passing.

    Let waking divide
    this day in which you walk
    from the past
    which already is less
    than whisper, fainter
    than a breath's caress.

    Let the day begin
    without prejudice, clean
    of grief or gladness.

    What lies before you is all
    the potential you need.
    All you will ever have.

    With one stroke you end the cosmos
    of a life. Gather your poems
    from the carcass.

    Remember you are dying.
    That your absence is also poetry.

    Make space with your words
    so those who come after
    may hear their own voices
    in your silence, deepening.

23 October 2001   22:36 hours
today { } after watching 'Eating Air'