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.