Meanwhile on the Sea of Forever Arriving

And yet, and yet, never far
from that pathetic lifeboat
and its motley shipwrecked crew

for whom each day is their ship
leaking and slowly sinking,
each night their wreck a bonfire,

and every morning flotsam
from dreams of fire and water
scattered on the vacant waves,

a quiet bird is floating,
a bird without reflection
a pure nothing of a bird,

the connoisseur of current
who cons the waves on the sea
of forever arriving--

Grace, Joy, Clarity, Deep Peace,
Ease and Lightness of Being,
prettily appropriate

labels all, although labels
never stick to waves for long
but ride or slip beneath them--

a halcyon sort of bird
already beyond the pale
melodramas of wrecked lives,

content in every moment
to rise and fall in silence
and forgive the lifeboat's gang

who lust to consume its peace
always just beyond their reach
on the sea of arriving.