If Levi were trapped on a desert island and could have only one book to read, he would have a very hard time deciding between a collection of poetry from either Rumi or Hafiz.
To Light the Way
by Levi Noe
I imagine a time
when the spark
you truly are
finally catches fire
through all the damp and mildew
and sets your dead-wood self
ablaze.
I am supposing you will say
something like “yeeouch!”
and possibly you may
be desperate enough
to stop, drop, and roll,
or run for the nearest
body of water.
But then
after several minutes
of mortified lunacy
you will find yourself
unscathed,
covered in dirt
and/or
dripping wet
laughing hysterically,
not caring how insane
the crowds gathering around
might think you are,
not worrying
whether or not
someone has called the police.
I imagine you will stop laughing then
and begin to weep
for all the illusions
of skin
and bone
and sinew
and thought
that now blow somewhere
across the midwest as fertile ash.
All of that illusion
that you once identified with,
and claimed as yourself
gone, gone, gone.
And once the madness
and mourning pass
I suppose you will float away
or choose to stay here as a naked,
penniless, homeless wanderer
with no aim, no fear, and no motive
but to love and to burn like a candle
to light the way.