The beauty of the dream hurts, stark and spare and
pulling deeply into me, into my
thinking…my emotion dissolving
drifting across with ripples
the great emotional pond, the ever ending beginning.
The pain grabs my at the root, grabs my
attention completely, succinctly, devoutly
staring at what I am…now…not what
I see, hear, feel, taste and…I am
waiting by the road…walking/running toward…
Exquisite pain not my style…to enjoy the shred
from skin, from soul, from here to there
and yet inside; light and sparkling and fizzy and
corners illuminated; the first time seen
comfort blooms on drought ridden plains
The hurt from separation…from not having
pulls me back to here and to now and I am
happy to have it, to be a part of the flow
the ebb and vibration of frequent thoughts, of constant
dreams where who I am is who I should be
I am happy to have the dream…the idea
of you…and to feel it if even for an instant, a lifetime
passing through like wind and leaves, flipping back,
forth and sliding across levels of living, akin to
layered minerals telling time, the passage of history
In this moment of smiling pain I am who I never was;
someone who couldn’t see, couldn’t know…now
it is enough to feel, to have had briefly, to grasp
and feel slip by, sand through now relaxing hands
let go and it comes, open up and it gets closer, reject and
it accepts; pushing always, always, always equals pushing
Not today but yesterday has a story to be told…it
isn’t mine, bits and pieces of what everyone owns, what
is immutable but changing…the ever ending beginning
I don’t like pain unless it is this pain, this feeling
loss and gain and build and destroy and…all.
Just all.