He

Living in vibrant flow,
joy then equanimity,
he has wandered wastelands.

Said he: “my health is the best it has ever been.
I approach the world and its beings with compassion!”

His strength, his competence, his humour—
all self-assured—a golden rage against the dying light.

Said he: “I am like Herzog’s penguin.
I keep chaos in me.
So I birth dancing stars!”

His intelligence was of the form: thoughtful-play,
observing curiously without evaluation,
driven by conscience and hard graft.

He accepted the totality of himself objectively,
and had the courage to be disavowed and detested.

Wise to the potentialities of the self,
his success is his own mystery.

When he suffers he is gracious and serene,
pain becomes transformation.

He transforms fear into prudence,
granting survival.

He morphs mistake into initiation,
entering still deeper layers.

He twists desire into doing,
so he acquires.

He’s twisty.

He has many skills.

He burns bright.

He lets out a great: “aaaaaaaaaaaa haaaaaa!”