I am back to the green bench after three days.
This morning I heard the song about a meaningful person, the one who has a different meaning from what his words say. Like meaningful poets who get their meaning in small things and find the God of small things.
Poet says moment knows. You do not know what moment knows. In the penultimate moment you know what the moment knows. In the penultimate analysis , you are one up on fate. You are meaningful.
I get up from the green bench and walk to the park gate. I look back to find the presence I left in the bench. Or rather, my absence in the bench. Can one find one’s absence? asks the social reformer painted with ghoulish eyes on the park wall, meaningfully.
In the penultimate moment I know everything of what the moment knows.