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.
I,
just have to keep working,
chipping away
at these
bulwarks and barricades
that I
have built up to contain
something
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
