The Temple’s Promise

I can’t make anything
hurt less.
I can’t make your tear-stained
cheeks unwrinkle.
I can’t make you forget.

There is so much
you need to burn,
there is so much
you can let go,
there is so much you will give to me.

We’ll let
the fire take it,
we’ll laugh
with the whips of air,
we’ll gleefully ride the eco-sphere.

I can warm
your fingertips,
I can breathe
in your ears,
I can help you see.

And then I won’t be there tomorrow.

The Center

The smallest of wispy threads
spewing force,
sucking the lava hot current
of life, together
concoct the universe.

Not the dog,
nor the horse,
not even the mouse
is denied.
It’s an all or nothing
raw deal
of inclusivity.

One is likely to go broke.
Being that well connected,
resurrected, suggested
friends appearing
and reappearing.

Be lost. Get lost.
Find where
you’re lost.        And there.
Feel the primordial
compass tick,
a bass thumping–
no, not your heart,
the needle point edge
of passing over.

The Temple of Promise I

I rarely premise a Letter from the Playa with any sort of introduction. However, the Temple of Promise going down this year really shaped my entire experience and I wanted to deconstruct that effect it had on me with a minimalist approach. The 2015 Temple burn was quite different for me. While many were mentally reaching out to loved ones or saying their solemn goodbyes, I was internally celebrating a loss.

This is the first in a line of haikus dedicated to the Temple of Promise. Haikus are seemingly easy, but much like a controlled fire, they can promptly surprise you. I challenge you to read it a few times, slowly at first, and perhaps it will ignite a fond memory. I hope you enjoy.
(Photo credit: Jim Urquhart / Reuters)

I watched you burn slow,

floating in the weeping crowd,

I moan in triumph.