James 

Don't ask me how I am doing.

I am doing extraordinarily well.

I breathe.

I exist with far and distant stars,

The sky and moon.

I am.

What more can you ask of me?

How much better can we become?

Before us, to my budding mind

Only more and greater ecstasy;

And such, surely, is the meaning of it all.

The end without the beginning without the end.

I am.

Surely, surely you know this.

How different are you from me?

How much more - or less - alive is it possible to be?

We either are or we are not,

And we are here now in this moment

Encased in everything.

I look for separation and find none;

There is no margin, no edge, not even an extremity.

Continual continuousness.

This is how I am.

Why do you ask how I am?

I am curious to know.

It is a most fascinating question...

Why do we even ask?

Untitled poem rediscovered three days before James died in his sleep on

January 15th - 16th, 2022, and subsequently dedicated to him by his brother.