FROM ORBIS TERTIUS
(after Borges, Wittgenstein)
Everything I own is here with me
Every happiness I have ever known
must exist presently as well.
The mind is the key to it all.
What is past is merely dreamed,
nothing painful sticking to the
surface of the actual.
And what could happen—
the possible repair of a leaking
a panoramic dawn as I rise—
is but mere fantasy.
This is all there is:
all that my mind will take in—
my restless body and shaking hand,
this ink pen and how it works with
Here, I see only myself, standing
atop steep hills, in the present,
an illusion of you imagined for
a dream of you pondered for tomorrow—
you, whom I refer to as merely
© by James R. Whitley