In Every Life

In every life there’s a moment or two

when the self disappears, the cruel wound

takes over, and then again

at times we are filled with sky

or with birds or

simply with the sugary tea on the table

said the old woman

I know what you mean said the tulip

about epiphanies

for instance a cloudless April sky

the approach of a butterfly

but as to the disappearing self

no

I have not yet experienced that

You are creating distinctions

that do not exist in reality

where “self” and “not-self” are like salt

in ocean, cloud in sky

oxygen in fire

said the philosophical dog

under the table scratching his balls