History of the World

Some days I feel history
disappearing before my eyes,
my history, your history,
the history of the world.
I stare, with nostalgia, as our
world is revolutionized and I
am right there at its unfolding.
I wish I could say I take part
in all the changes for the better,
but I don't; I just watch them.
I'm also watching intently as
all the various reasons to remain
living are eaten away, sometimes
bit by bit, sometimes in enormous
chunks. Icebergs of our
formerly fluid hope, mountains
of our dashed dreams sailing
past us in the dark. Often I
tremor with some kind of verve
as folks make history over and
over and I want so badly to
make it too, to be responsible
somehow for its unfolding.
Mohammed said the best
holy war is that for conquest of
self. How can you conquer
yourself if everyday there is less
of you, if the sands of your life
on this planet visibly slip
through your fingers without
end, if you can never quite
be sure which part of you is
The Old and which part is
The New? I reckon the only
people who've ever actually
achieved enlightenment have
been those with only a few
grains of life left--so much
easier to conquer a few grains
of sand as opposed to
an entire island of self-doubts,
and mortal fears, and eternal
confusions. That's the trick,
isn't it? Stick around long
enough and you will one day
find peace despite yourself.

(2007)