if you could follow
the Path back home
would it really matter
who you have become

and would you want to
see what happens next
or is it really all
all just the same

atmospheres change
as weather, within
   potentials
collapsed into what is
currently now or
the longer view
   seasons
cracks of frozen dirt
or heat too durable
to ever forget

and just as the earth
carved with catastrophe
accepts every element
from which we emerge
   how do i
believe i am any
more deserving of completion?

i wanted
to write
   about a man
we just met
in common
with a basis
in honest
   simplicity
yet nothing
captures
what cannot be

your face
  expressing
your thoughts

unrestrained

as you hear
variance

from the Script
  refreshing

as a heart
dripped
in fractured
  crystal
clear water:

the authentic
stamp broken
precisely human

a lost art:
listening
after the fact
when words are gone
sight settles
down into the whole
where all there is
is what is dreamed
perhaps even real
in the shared space
we are convinced
   must be
uniquely our own