don’t tell me what to believe
or what my body means,
(it’ll just waste away, someday, anyway)

I do as I please,
as I sift through this endless, draining lake
of empty unease,
where no heat lifts the water
and no rain fills the cup.

This is a world
without a soldiering sun
or a storm to come.

Look and,
(I’m sorry)
but, you’ll see
you know no more than me.

And in this world
(lucky me),
I have just as much substance as a dream,
that sits with you
after waking from sleep,
but I’m going somewhere,
to try
to feel real.

and in this world,
I fear for you
and your frailty,
if not for mine.

Us humans
are so sad,
with great reason to be,
doomed from birth to death.

so, what is there but love?
I think, not much,
but I need to suffer to see
the truest world I can believe,
realize
the authentic self
I’ve felt,
and make some sense
out of this sad mess.

And, though you disagree,
after all that you’ve done for me,
this mutual mercy between us must
be preserved,
even though it hurts.

The alternative is in the howling wind.
It’s harsh
and, like all other homes,
it kills us,
but it’ll beat us worse.

I’ve tried
to please you,
but I won’t give up my soul
to pacify your worry.

but I’ll try to be fine
in life,
and I’ll come home,
and I know our love won’t die.

this sorry stump in shallow water
where I stand
has been the crux of me so far,
but maybe I’ll find a place
where water flows
(clear and filled with minnows)
and willows grow
(weeping forever
into pools of life)
if I wander far
through the troublesome stretches
of this great, draining place,
and one day
I’ll find some strength,
then some peace,
and I’ll learn
to love without fear of loss
and accept what I receive.