The Old Brain: Rhinencephalon # 23                                                  To be in
                                                                                                                the  moment
                                                                                                               is the miracle.                                                                                                                              ~ Osho    
I might be more compliant a parishioner
in the church of Live the Moment Now,
were it not for lost love’s slow roll of the stone   
to close the sanctuary of precious recollection.  

The blanching kaleidoscope of her laugh.
The fading flavor of her diction on my tongue.  

The glimpse of eyes bluer than citadel domes    
that if I turn to see full on, in heat waves melt away.  

The sensuality of smile, the slightly
upturned nose, rose cheeks on perky cheek bones seen  

through the smell and lick
of breath steamed glass.  

I fear that time, will leave me vacant of that life.
But then arrives the fabled unkind cut:   

a shirt deep in a whicker laundry creel
rips my brain with the raging fragrance of her flesh.  

Redolent proof that she is not in this moment
here with me, but she is deep rooted  

in ripe memories that draw me like a Siren’s song
to islands of the past, rush me Rocket Man  

searching for her in the clouds that are not now
but of a future time, more gentle to the touch and gaze.  

So, thank you Osho for your insight, so profound.
But, I do not wish to constantly inhale this present pain.  

Truly I say to you, I cannot wait
for the stench of this living moment to be gone.