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Aging in a Deeper Place

As I age
the formerly wide chasm between ecstasy and despair
grows narrower,
deeper.

I had not thought this an attribute of maturation,
quite the contrary,
but perhaps an aging crevice,
a thinning fracture
between played-out manic bliss, over-extended harvest,
and depression
nondually faces two extremes
of positive major chords and keys
with negative minor tensions
searching for each other out and in,
become too vocal, focal
looking for tacit evidence
apposition yet lives
on another side
of this darkening
enlightening
divide.

Dr. Jeckyll’s confluence
redeeming Mr. Hyde’s dissonance
double-binding midway balance
now become a treacherously tight rope
tensioned for resonance and buoyant bounty,
just short of snapping side against side.

Perhaps wisdom is learning how to equitably co-invest
in both wonder and shock,
without becoming paralyzed in-between these boundless awes,
deep wavering yes and please not yet,
not yet,
carving a gorge
deep echoing sacred reverence
and secular irrelevance,
ecstasy with ridiculing despair,
boundless sufficiency without endless satisfaction,
reiterating eternal integrity
not yet surely promised
beyond potential disintegration.

If solitude portends sublime co-operation,
what remains for aching loneliness?

Who and what could become redeemed
through double-binding isolations
within voiceless awe
for wonder indwelling silent shock
of ego loss
deep shadowing eco-gain?

To win to lose,
to lose to win,
co-arising deceptions again.

Deeply resonant depressions;
subliminal,
suboptimizing ego dominations.

Two delineations
with hairline fracturing co-definition?

What would be blissful contentment’s promise
without any dissonant content
for comparison?

What are omnipotent spirits
without ego vacuuming materials,
evidence of necessary,
hopefully sufficient,
deep double-binding awe
that we,
even I within we,
have been something,
someone,
someone’s,
rather than the far more statistically likely
nothing at all
evermore.

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