how could i be
   lucky
enough to fall
together from particles
   here
with you

from all that is
above, so cold
in probabilities
that you might be
   here too

sometimes i fight
traditions making me
   feel ways
i am not like
Belief answers its own
   question
a programmed set perhaps
discovered, nurtured
at one time felt
   true as answers
making safe places
repeating by us all

as i discover
my body, sometimes
hangs heavy
as a neanderthal
with arms hanging
from shoulders dragging
weight to the ground
legs plod along rocks
as neck cocks side
to side wary of night
beasts lurking
deep in woods
on the long path
trodden on home

the moon is never reached
    as the target
with straight lines
as you might imagine
    you must imagine
more
    like a circle
curved with no intentions
    in sight, aimless
as metaphysics wields pi
to span the empty gap
    with accuracy
few could guess

if i find a place
where everything is nice
i would not have to answer
   what nice is
or whether nice is
boring - neither here
there nor where you are
   nice in our best
moments which, in this place
   all moments are

it would grow on me
like moss, wet soft dripping
   with comforting cold
yet never chill, warm
deep green of shades to brown
as the earth pulls down
leaves in covers always near
   the trickle of the stream
muddy feet, and the ratta-tat-tat
of the unseen flying beast
justly boring holes in trees
for its great unmoving feast