The Demon and the Monk

This little demon
has set-up camp in a place
where they ask he get a permit.
Yet he parked illegally
but no one hears the noise he makes

But me.

When I arrive
they just won’t believe it.
Confidence pouring from
the seams
tearing through a room,
that puts its gaze on me.

He giggles,
I grimace.

“Don’t you hear it?!”
My pleas
with responses of,

“No.”

“So what you’re saying,”
she says,
“Is that despite the tightness
despite the noise
you’re managing
to get it all done.”

“Yes.
Managing.
But
I’d rather have it
that there’s nothing to do.”

The harsh breath pierces the
waves of my mind.
Frantic.
Panic.
Regret for the past
fear for the future.
“You fucked up!” he screams.
“You fucked up!”

Silence.

The man sits in the corner.
His breath
sucks in the words of the
other.
They come out
smoothed over
reflected upon.

“There is no such thing.”
He whispers
as if to me
but his eyes are closed
and I think he may be talking
to himself.

His words
anger the demon
being made wrong.
A huff.
A puff.
Misunderstanding.
“Surely there is such a thing!”
He screams,
“Look back, just look back!”

The man in the corner is aged
wisdom permeating from his being
lodged in creases dug upon his face.
Like the water that broke the
ground
to flow forever.
He has been washed.

The other pleads that
he look back
for his proof is in his past.

The old man
patiently listens.
An ear so used to running thoughts.
Another breath in.

A moment of silence.

“Look in,” he says,
“Look in.”

And all that can be found there
are pulsing organs
being pushed by blood.
No knowledge of a past.
A future
only guaranteed by an
appropriate exchange of
gases.

A huff.
A puff.
This house cannot be blown down.

The monk
sits quietly
eyes closed.
A smile painted on his face.

The demon boils in silence.
He was sent here to rattle
the walls.
But they will not shake.
For every moment
in present moments
is nothing
but still.

There is no change.

Like the old man
who doesn’t know his face
ever aged.
That creases ever formed
like ground torn by
water.
He knows only of
unmoving rivers
never flowing streams.