Grave of Dust

Last month
I buried meditation
in a shallow grave of dust
on top of my bookshelf

Whatever I was searching for
only lasted a page or two

After 38 years of closed eye diving
and cool subtle breathing, I
think I forgot what I was seeking

Whatever it was, or is, or forever will be
was shy enough to elude the looking for it

Impossible to put out the light tonight,
though thoroughly drunk on futility - aren't
the biggest secrets usually found unlocked
and laying right in front of you?

Midnight long passed
and though I ache for steak
in my left hand, a cheese sandwich . . .