The shaman charged you too much
for your own breath.
The savior hid your soul under a cup
and switched it with his own.
The guru ran off with your Shakti
Meanwhile the leftist was tricking you
into thinking you were someone’s victim,
as the fascist promised you peace
if you worshiped his flag and carried an AR-15.
The yoga teacher told you your body was God,
but the New Age metaphysician insisted
your flesh was an illusion.
So you took a workshop with the leading
non-duality coach who spent
the whole weekend reminding you
that he teaches Nothing
because there is no teacher
and no one to teach.
You felt guilty when you asked
your bank to cancel his $500 check
and sent him a new one
made out for Zero.
Maybe that’s why you went back to church
and tried to feel like a sinner
so you could get saved,
but there was Nothing to get saved from.
What will you do now
that you’ve followed every path
and wound up here
in the old growth forest again?
Don’t become a cynic, friend.
Just take off your shoes and wander
all night, barefoot on broken moonbeams
among the Bleeding Fairy Helmets,
fungi Mycena Haematopis,
cedar fronds and owl eyes,
embodying the howls of grampa coyote,
until you’re lost enough to cry,
‘I am home, I am home!’