A Sigh in the Fire

This idea of his to live as, a philosopher lives
to go to the bathroom and consider
every act, an act of will,
to wash and to utter the proper
invocations. To live the life of contemplation
not waste bread, bis-mallah the jinn
when turning on the tap, to question
question question every single deed
an act of will. Wake up each day
to this creed stumbled upon
in an actual bookshelf
in a book. Study, study, study
every last line:

"These are the verses that make things manifest."

Alif Lam Ra

Every leaf that falls had a destiny
born, die, born, die, born, die
like that. The work of the becoming.

To wake up and consider every sign
and utter the appropriate invocation
I cannot number the things
I cannot number them, cannot keep
up with the praise
Shukr'allah for the blink, breath, the Byzantine
Shukr'allah for the bread, for Pat Sajak, the second kidney
Shukr'allah for the Apache, for my new shoes
Shukr'allah for turkeys and teamwork
Shukr'allah for clowns and special liasons
Shukr'allah for coffee beans and water
for goats, the A plus, for Mister Rogers,
for diesel fuel and penicillin,
for the wheel, jumbo jets, ink,
the heavier weight and equal measure.

Mighty is this treatise, more than
all the alphabet prizes, more than
how many angels could stand on a pin.
Seashells. A special thanks for sea shells.

If only I woke up with charming
philosophy on my mind.
Putting it between new pecans and the need
to buy an eighteen foot ladder to get up there,
to touch them one by one, to hear
the whisper of the bee as it flies by
saying, bis mallah to the Obviator, follow me.