Sin’s Origin
Sit still and quiet every day,
Your problems will not go away.
But you’ll learn where they arise:
It’s thinking. Not a big surprise.
More than fifty years ago,
Joni Mitchell wrote this,
Masterpiece of poetry.
About a night she stopped at,
A truckstop and its cafe.
The moment, so typical of us,
Is saved for all to see.
But that song contained,
So much more than that.
It was the perfect analogy,
Of the search for enlightenment.
How we always look in the wrong place,
For it. Even though that looking,
Makes such good sense.
The moment, so typical of us,
Is saved for all to see.
Remembrance
I have this theory,
That consciousness continues
As long as a person is remembered.
Most of us die and are soon forgotten.
We’re the lucky ones. Just think of your ancestors,
Most of us know nothing about them,
Beyond great-grandparents, if that.
But alas for Eve and Adam, Miles Standish and Teddy Roosevelt’s children.
And poor Cleopatra.
Practice
It’s the desire for self-improvement that leads us to the path,
But there’s no self to be improved. You can do the math.
Alex Pretti (1989-2026)
You didn’t expect to die
At thirty-seven.
No one does.
The illusion of immortality,
Is one we all automatically have.
But may your dead body
Be a seed. Against
The illusion of fascism.
And may I always carry that seed.
May it inform all that I do.
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