Ananda

dreaming of awakening as an adult human animal
in need of the cool side of the pillow

inhaling a long, still morning
pleasant dog breath
boundless potential

vibrating every cell of our body
two cookie-cutter-perfect spoons
paused in bliss, tiny timeless death
no me, just us, no breath

Here in the Postmodern West mired in the totalitarian gridlock of coronavirus, we’re experiencing a crashing tidal wave of techno-stress and agora-loneliness. We have built a flabbergasting array of tools to prevent and assuage suffering and to connect each of us to just about anyone else. And yet, by any account, we are no happier.