John I. Blair
Let me make one thing clear:
I really don't believe reincarnation,
I really don't believe I've been reborn
Over and over across the eons.
Yet sometimes when I'm trotting
From one room to another
In this modern office tower,
I court the thought I've done it all before.
I've scurried down a cloister,
Wrapped in my woolen robes,
Anticipating the abbot's jibes
About my clumsy toil in the scriptorium.
I've waited endless hours
In a chilly marble chamber,
Eyeing armed centurions,
Clutching my petition to the emperor.
I've threaded my way fearfully
Through claustrophobic temple corridors,
At each dim corner drawing nearer
To the holiest of holies.
I've crept with smoking torches
Deep into the mountain cave,
Hoping to complete the sacred painting
Before the woolly mammoth hunt.
If anything's to be learned
From all these flights of fancy:
Though circumstances change,
Anxiety stays much the same.
©2003 John I. Blair