Karuna

Karuna


When I reach for you
is it the you in my head?
You are not comfort.
You too are free, unheard of,
alone, all one
with everything.

When I am alone
I am with you more.
You too suffer the pressure,
of remembering
that you are,
yet you are not, your body.

The distance reminds me
you are changing,
fresh as this breath in my lungs,
exploring the unknown.
Who do you want as a witness?
Or are you beyond that now?

Is the urge to be together
still the longing to retreat?
Are we merely bisque pots,
shabbily holding each others smiles,
unfired by our own surrender,
unable to hold each others' tears?

Don’t look for me in memories.
You will not fine me there.
I am trembling along.
Can you remain connected
when you realize nothing is as it seems,
and yet it is what it is?

It gets stranger still;
the soul is uplifted when we worship God,
although we desire other people more.
Space is a farce.
All is present, and and artful,
waiting to be conceived.

You, who I want to be my best for, 
see me at my worst.
Can you tremble along with me?
If you want to watch,
you’re going to
need to show me.

Witness others,
as you would have others witness you.
Imagine me
grateful and awake,
loving the world,
receiving the self.