a poem

The tiredness that infects me
is the tiredness that I find when all possibility
equals something I do not want and did not choose.
Did I choose to be born?

What I know is this –
the next breath in inevitable
and still there is a choice in how to breathe it.

But we do what we do –
have you noticed?

I offer my breath to the power of words
I offer my breath to the possibility
that I have something meaningful to say or
that I can transmit this meaning
or that you will find your own
buried in the blank
notebook and moving letters across a page.
This is the gauge –
have you said something that surprised even you-
have you listened deeper than you ever thought was possible?
Have you let your soul shine through
this window of space time
and let it flow into rhyme?
Have you danced under the rain lately
or listened while the wold world
went through the wash cycle?
The moon moving from new and back again.
Have you let yourself fall in love with this moment.
Just for an instant.
And let that carry you through.


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