nóstos, to return home.

álgos, to pain.

This is not quite fear,

not quite love,

not quite the quivering

from nerves above,

no, not is it known

till it is known,

cannot be known till it is felt,

cannot be felt till it occurs,

cannot occur until you go,

till, till you go away,

till you are away, away,

From your Self,

far enough away from self

to feel your self

when you are gone,

when you go on,

God not one: gone, gone.

Your duty now is the duty that. That.

That has taken you away,

and the duties from

that which you came

are duties for another day,

duties of another play,

and queerly, now,

what was then banal

is remembered, now,

as the grandest ball.

The re-memory of a chore at home,

the reverie of a friend once known,

the sun it shines on every day but

on the days you leave,

you leave this place,

the sun will shine,

the shine will say,

“Here, here, look at me

casting shadows, lights,

lights on streets, up, up,

up on walls,

on the traveling to town’s

abandoned malls.

“Stick out your head from

the corridor where my rays

will splay your boredom more

than the warmth I shine

ever has before,

“for now that you are all alone,

the traveling circus of this show,

you’ll see all life,

and then you’ll moan,

‘I cannot keep

what I’ve been shown.’”

Every place you’ve ever been

is gone, is gone, is now el fin,

just pits upon your abdomen,

the sunken loss of what has been,

that aching sense to clasp it all

to hug the earth, to curl,

to ball, to wheel, to whine,

to scream aloud, “I love, I love,

I love it all.”

Your knees are weak, you fall, you fall,

you grasp at wind to freeze, to stall,

you slow your steps to spare the scene,

your heart keeps weeping miserably

till then at once it is revealed, all

there is is there is to be.

Nostalgia returns. Nostalgia leaves.

Leave, it returns. Return, it leaves.

The teacher of equinimity:

cease seizing the seven seas,

up and down,

so-so the waves,

the ebb and flows,

the merri-gos,

sailing, sailing

this carousel,

at once it’s heaven,

at once it’s hell,

till all has been,

you go again,

you call it pain,

you call it sin

when all it is

is You, my friend.

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