Endings/Beginnings

‘The end',

we say

when something feels like

it has run its course,

As if

we’d put a little dam

around

a moment,

Hermetically sealed in space and time,

an artefact to be displayed,

Considered from afar

We knew once

That endings are beginnings

That birth and death are not

two delineated points,

But are the process by which potential manifests

out of itself

each moment,

That without the last moment’s dying

there could not be this one

Or this

Or this to take its place

And so none of us can say

what our next moments bear,

All we know is that

each moment

is the seed

through which the next breaks through,

through which the next breaks through

So our work is just to plant the seeds,

and water them,

with no end,

just this endless breaking open,

till there is nothing left to break

only this opening

which is love itself