Goodbye forever, maybe

Living in the moment
makes it hard to make promises
or to believe them

the person I am right now
is not the person I will be tomorrow
the present is crystal clear

it is OK to make mistakes
to not achieve my current goals
to welcome what is

if you are gone forever or for a day
or still here for all I know
if you care or have other interests

or fear
as I so often fear
the pain of trusting another

which is comparable to
the pain of trusting no one
especially not myself

if you are in today
and I am in today
and we need nothing from each other

but are sometimes able to be together
and to sometimes forget to be present
and to lie about the future

and if I have an abundance of people
in my life today
and all I could ever need, and more

and I still enjoy some more than others
and I don't know what tomorrow will bring
because today is so full

If all these what-ifs were true
i could love letting you go
and letting the emptiness in

and the only thing I need to do today
is to be here and now and willing
because the doors of the universe are wide if I have no keys

the silence, the space, and the love
that holds tight and lets go
the hole in my heart filled with light

and breathing out, I smile
the present moment is all I need
it is so wonderful to experience myself

the biggest nothing of all
the source of my inspiration
my life as it is

time is constant
my feelings variable
and what is sleep?  the best art form

the best art form
is unvoiced music
because it provides no visuals

which I need so much
the words that are not there
seem more powerful

all art is the same
all non-art is creative
we are all so different and alike

is the water boiling yet?
my body needs so much
even a warrior needs food.

plain as the eye can see
in the middle of a moonless night
the red that I remember brighter

your sister, your brother, and the strange world
of secrets held too long
and then suddenly revealed

to world, to me, to yourself
I can hear the water
starting to boil

the never-ending story of my life
and the one promise I believe
is that it will end

and I wonder
whether I will be there, here
for the happy event

a funny story
of a painful adventure
that made everyone laugh

and time does not stand still for me
emotions, inner drugs
just who are we fighting so much?

X and a thumbprint
that is me
I vote in favor

and sometimes against
I choose
and I choose again

and on good days
the sun actually rises
and I can let go

of you.

and of life
that I kill so well
with every breath I live

of me
whatever that may be
a movie, play, novel, or symphony

but really just a dance
a circus freak act
words, actions, thoughts

blank sheets of paper
so crisp and clean
never knowing what they will say

a flame undying
my heart my lust my self-control
my passion

my fear of embarrassment, of loss
my courage such as it is
my desire for things to go my way

and who am I?
such a spiritual question
more essential than the answer

the fear, the anger, the pain
disembodied, disembodying
where are my feet now?

touching wood
not watching the sky
turning from night to day

even a warrior poet needs food
much as he might wish to hide
this weakness which is the greatest strength

dancing with words
singing the light
reliving the past

why don't relationships make me happy?
and the thought of sex does
for those brief wonderful moments

leading to deep sleep
for my thinking
do I need me?

can we reach nirvana together?
or maybe better apart
my age gets younger every year

and that's a lie
just like my beard does not grow shorter
or softer, or darker

if these words make no sense
they are a perfect match for my feelings
my eyes hurt

maybe I will cry
as the birds sing
and the sun begins to shine

and my feet take me places
uncomplaining, very faithful
who are they carrying around?

whoever put together
my feet and my head
had a great sense of humor

I could cry
but I won't
it is not needed

or maybe I will
and it is needed
for all those gone before me

did Kafka ever have children?
and is the artist more important than the man?
to the artist?  to the man?

sleeping under all these apparent questions
the roots go deep
knowing without having to tell

no hunger is needed, no thirst
so often the ending
is just another beginning

there is nothing ordinary
about ordinary life
the emptiness is full of light

thinking with my feet works better
but is not enough
the feet follow the dreams

when nonsense makes sense
I can see reality
inside and out

nor does time ever stop
reality ever go away
except in my sleep