Clean Face

It’s the prospect of reunion
Makes the world more vividly fine
As your time as your time dwindles.

It won’t be long before you are
A part of everything again,
No drowsy part of you apart,

Half observing, half narrating.
Increasingly, bare air feels rich,
Not in that you will be going

But for knowing you’ll be joining
Phenomena only being,
Not being aware of being.

Home looks good, doesn’t it? Doesn’t
The thought of not thinking on it
Seem to wipe the grime off of it?