Musings in Couplets

The realization that the realizationis enough, will sustain, will encourage,

is not enough, does not sustain,will not encourage.

Where better to hide the meaning of lifethan in suffering, where no one wishes to look?

What I call the great miseries of my lifeare like house flies, exaggerated nuisances.

The earth is a flipped coin, casually threateningto annihilate us, and my private river of worries,

once a stalwart guide for my ancestors,now collects in my gut like a green pond.

How often, like lumber waiting to be split open, I wait, paralyzed, for my cowardice to end.

The sound of aircraft reminds no one on the runway

of the transience of life, no one of grief’s ripening.

I need someoneto love me 

for who I ambut I do not want

to love anyonefor who they are.