Essence, Essence, Essence Poem by RIC BASTASA

i am learning and i am learning everyday
some truths keep coming like uninvited guests
my stairs are dirty the soil and mud keep coming
the living room is crowded and there are words everywhere
on the arms of the chairs on the tables on the doors some words hang themselves, and i am not really at a loss, i am just amazed

last night i promised myself to close the door and the windows
and live a life of my own the following morning
but it is not at all that simple,
the house is lonely and if it decides to close
all openings and seal all its rooms,
how can the house breathe?
let all these truths come, let them take the forms of poetry
let them have the rose of the prose, the say of an essay, the narrations
of the long novel,
for now i have changed and have preferred once more
to give in and to listen
my ears are wide like highways
my eyes as attentive as lighthouses
my feet patient as shoes waiting to be worn again

i am a bowl and i let the rain come inside me
they pour in like forms of bliss
they fill me
i do not break
i only overflow and then everyday
the sun takes every part that i save
and i become empty again

i am the passive recipient,
i am the spectator
they all reveal themselves as i watch
in wonder
i count my fingers
i sleep with all my dreams
in darkness in light
i am back to this wanton wander