Fall Through: Ups and Downs

I've never been one
To believe in reincarnation
Yet, it does seem to me as if
My life is but one syllable
In a vast machination

Just as I think I've performed
My last discursive dance
I find I've only elided
Into the next utterance

At some time - I cannot say when
There was Nibbana
And then a return,
A very painful one!

Having stuck on one word
I hung out to dry on the other,
which was where my teacher came in
('Lucky' her!)

Then having found my way back again
And learning the trick
Of passing back and forth,
although somehow not getting it at all,

I now but see another layer
That of a a place
Neither Nibbana nor Samsara;
Neither not Nibbana nor not Samsara

And as for what if anything (or nothing)
Could come next,
I will not ask yet
And would perhaps prefer not to apprehend

But wherever I wind up,
Whether moving on, to consonants or vowels,
If water there be we,
May I be blessed with plenty of towels!