On Some Fine Day

On Some Fine Day


A small gift has never hurt anyone,

A woman once wrote.

There are exceptions

Microbes can be a bitch

Though maybe I am a small gift to them?

Once I knew a guy

Who was a day or two past crying in his beer
He said
Where the body goes the mind will follow,
Somewhat reluctantly
Even good friends finally fail

I’m trying to learn with you

to appreciate 

This pain we share

separately

Sleep is the gift

Of separation and retreat
Side stepping the incoming
Waking up to access the damage
Guided by the pulse of change
Only scoundrels dare to complain and rail

What’s the point?

Is it the celebration

Of the transient and imperfect?

I celebrate and revere my atoms and yours

Such magic stuff
Small gifts indeed
That allows us to borrow and to be

And on some fine day
I will turn the mirror around
Having seen enough
And focus on the stars.

"Wabi-sabi nurtures all that is authentic by
acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and

nothing is perfect.” -Wiki