Turning this over

in my hands.

This feeling that I have always had.

Since I was a child,

before the fear and doubt devoured me.

Consciousness is

not what we think it is,

something more,

yet so simple.

Mine and yours

are incomplete,

but infinitely compatible.

So why is this so hard?


Wrestling with these emotions,

is like grappling with God.

I am never one step ahead,

always reacting to the Art.

If I try to lock it down,

it becomes something quite apart

from what I knew it to be

way back at the start.

Can I get myself before it

comes to choke me out again?

I’m a bit too slow in rolling

and I feel myself

drifting in the wind.


There’s always a better way.

There’s always a better place.


just have to keep working,

chipping away

at these

bulwarks and barricades

that I

have built up to contain


I never understood.

I’ve just been

so afraid.


Shaking up my life,

not quite a snow globe,

but maybe a cocktail,

I’m flying solo.

Drink in the night wind,

rich with potential

for poison

or something

not so damned fatal.


On one hand

is the other hand.

I’m reaching out,

trying to understand.

Each little part of me,

came from another place.

Here I am, now

somewhere I can’t escape,

but I won’t stop trying.


There has got to be,

a way free

of this illusion.

There has got to be

some sense

in all this confusion.

Asking the questions

that I have been avoiding

the answers to.

Standing downrange,

waiting for the follow through.


Somewhere inside this

is who I am.

Somewhere in this world,

is the connection.

Finding parables

and all I hear are echoes.

Like hearing my voice

for the first time,

not reverberating off my bones.

I know I am not alone.



HG – 2019

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