Aroused by the Present
I am the throng of sense
That lives in the inner trance
The watcher of all glory
In the present moment
The recurring Spring is my time
To eat lyrics for breakfast
I am not along in this
We are transparent authors
We pretend we write for ourselves
But in reality, we write
In a universal field of
Mutual atonement
We follow the same inspiration
Vibe, tone, reinforcement
The bliss of writing is well known
There is no happiness like ours
We have been eating verse
For many years now, like our own
Librarians to the cosmic sense
The poems are gone
But the stories are vivid and live on in us
Like laughter, and sunsets
I am a new man because of her
I romp with bookish joy
For all her intended felicity.
– “There is no happiness like ours
We have been eating verse
For many years now”
Wuji Seshat 