The Om Poem by RIC BASTASA

three slices of
fresh philosophy
existential

a half ounce of
law on family
conflict

a pinch of a childhood
sour grape

another slice of
sweet lemon at the
age of 16

ground bitterness
like pepper
still hot in my throat

a little milk of
my first love

six of honey from my
college friends

make my salad of
my critical years

i sit on the table
facing an ocean of possibilities

i contemplate of halting
the days

and escape Time
and find refuge in perhaps

Death with an expectation
of A surprise to

Reincarnation, i can
chant for now the Om

i am silent
There is no one Here

It is good sometimes
To be Alone

Holding my Pulse
Listening attentively

If i am still here
If i am myself, My true Self

and no Other.
I am listening. I am listening.

Om.