the great cosmic fairgrounds

the point of doing things

is to return

habitually

to a place

where there’s nothing to do

that is the best place

that empty space

where everything

is effortlessly ordered

and you move

without moving

and contemplate

the universe

in your big toe

perfectly aware

of all the systems

turning perfectly

around you

and poised

in perpetuity

to continue

their conduction

as each new thing to do

arrives

with perfect timing

unifying

the past and the future

in your receiving of it

and your deft, accepting, joyful dealing

with it

in the form it presently

pops up in

for so long

you were tagging behind

pokey

overthinking

and a little overwhelmed

desperately

trying to catch up

and keep pace

but now

here

at the great cosmic fairgrounds

(the best place)

you match the big guy’s stride

with an ease

that cannot not

make perfect sense

and leaves you perfectly amnesic

of everything

but everything

that’s relevant

to each new step

as it meets the ground

and the conversation?

it couldn’t be more effortless

or uplifting

the questions & answers

popping like kernels

on the concession stands

even as

each new nugget,

light & buttery

lands, melting on your tongue

and you swallow it down

walking

and talking

like this

the confetti

exploding all around

and the sights

and sounds

of everything, caught up

of everyone, celebrating

all across

the great cosmic fairgrounds

abound

flashing and whirling,

cotton candy swirling

all of it

passing

in perfect harmony

as the barber poles turn

and the barkers

clutch balloons

and call for you to compete

for the fattest stuffed animal

weighing their shelves down

everything

happening now

nothing, ever, to do

but

simply

to choose

the next step

as it appears

in front of you

---

Image: CassieRoss