“Who does know?”,
he asked himself curious:
curious to know the answer:
curious to discover the covered-up plan.
And then it was when he
realised quite exactly
how much, and how many, and how
often, and how plenty, the covered-up plan
had covered up their lives.
For the question he needed to ask wasn’t
the question he needed to ask was
“Who doesn’t know?”
And then in the end – “Fuck it!” he said to himself –
he didn’t really care to care:
he’d learnt to live in a fabulous bubble:
he’d learnt to see his being was free
because the free being he’d become
was the heart,
was the [he]art,
was the soul he had so[u]l[e]d:
not to the devil but to the angels instead.
And for the first time in his long and
curious life, he’d fallen in love with the
practice of love.
He’d discovered the value,
He’d discovered the emotion,
the truth of it.
He’d discovered that whatever people
he loved now would say,
he knew what he felt – and was proud