The Morning After

The most useful distinction is probably: “The glimpse disappeared” is not the same claim as “what the glimpse revealed became untrue.” A state can vanish in seconds; recognition can begin altering the relationship to the self-model long after the vividness of the original moment has gone.

Story: The Morning After

Verse 1

Yesterday the centre vanished
standing at the kitchen sink
water moved across the fingers
before there was time to think
no one hiding in the body
no one watching from behind
just the dishes, just the daylight
just the movement of the mind

I laughed because it seemed so simple
I cried without a why
the room had never been more ordinary
yet no one stood inside

Then morning came
and thought said:

It’s gone.
You’ve lost the thing you knew.

And suddenly the old familiar world
felt solid, split in two

Chorus

The morning after clarity
the doubt comes walking in:

If you really saw it yesterday
why are you “you” again?

But sunrise still looks like sunrise
though the earth is turning through
the old appearance can return
without making the old story true

The glimpse can fade
the thought can shout
the body close around
and still, when looking for the owner—

nothing separate
is found

Verse 2

I tried to make it happen
stood again beside the sink
held my hand beneath the water
tried my very best not to think
looked behind the looking
asked who heard and who could see
and built a desperate seeker
trying to recreate no-me

I sat the way I’d sat before
I breathed the proper way
and every effort whispered:

Bring back yesterday.

But yesterday was memory
and memory happened here
along with the disappointed thought:

I’ve lost what once was clear.

Chorus

The morning after clarity
the doubt comes walking in:

If you really saw it yesterday
why are you “you” again?

But sunrise still looks like sunrise
though the earth is turning through
the old appearance can return
without making the old story true

The glimpse can fade
the thought can shout
the body close around
and still, when looking for the owner—

nothing separate
is found

Verse 3

The judge arrived with measurements:

Not long enough.

Not deep.

Not permanent.

Not embodied.

Too ordinary.

Too brief.

It held my little Tuesday
to an awakening in the sky
a perfect state imagined
where no doubt could ever rise

Of course the dream looked better
it was built to never fail
while Tuesday had a kitchen sink
and Wednesday had an email

I compared what really happened
to a state I’d never known
then used the perfect fantasy
to prove I’d never grown

Bridge

Recognition may be sudden
conditioning may stay
forty years of “me” and “mine”
don’t need to die today

The ball keeps gently rolling
after no one makes it start
the body knows the old routine
the language plays its part

My body
my thoughts
my future
my fear

the grammar keeps on talking
as if someone must be here

Let the grammar carry on
let the old sunrise appear

look—

is there an owner
anywhere
inside the fear?

Verse 4

Another glimpse came walking
while hanging clothes to dry
a towel lifted in the wind
with no one asking why
no inside and no outside
no centre I could keep
just movement in the afternoon
impossibly ordinary and deep

Then thought came running proudly:

There!
You’ve got it back again!

Then:

Hold it!
Don’t you lose it!

and the centre tightened then

This time I heard the comedy
and laughed beneath the sun
the glimpse was never mine to keep
and nothing had come undone

Chorus

The morning after clarity
the doubt may walk back in:

If you really saw it yesterday
why are you “you” again?

But sunrise still looks like sunrise
though the earth is turning through
the old appearance can return
without making the old story true

The glimpse can fade
the thought can shout
the body close around
and still, when looking for the owner—

nothing separate
is found

Verse 5

Now doubt still comes on Thursdays
and sometimes stays all day
sometimes thought looks solid
and the world seems far away
sometimes I am certain
that I must have got it wrong
and sometimes all the selfing
seems transparent as a song

None of that is final
none of that must stay
clarity is weather
and contraction has its day
the question isn’t:

Can I live
inside the glimpse I knew?

The question here and now is:

Can the one who lost it
be found too?

Final Chorus

The morning after clarity
let morning simply come
let the old familiar centre
sound its old familiar drum

No need to make it vanish
no need to call it true
the sense of self is happening
inside experiencing too

The glimpse can fade
the doubt can rise
the seeker pace around
but every time the owner is sought—

only life
is found

Outro

Clear for a moment.
Cloudy again.
No failure.
No end.

A glimpse.
A doubt.
A story renewed.

Then looking again—

and nothing
standing separately
behind
the view.