It’s so easy to fool myself
to be a dual self
one comfortable floating in delusions
the other in truth.
There is one me
lurking just beneath the surface
in the shadow hour,
the one who hasn’t called the lonely man
to see if there is anything I can
to help him peek out into the light
he has missed since his mother left
him alone after her death.

Is there a me  
one of the two
who’s whole and true
ok with being ordinary
ok with my immutable limits?

What freedom this would be
to accept this ordinary me
not living in a regret
of never being ideal
but instead living free
to just be me – finite and real.

What would we do without our lovers
to prove we can think about
and cherish someone other
than ourselves?

What would we do without autumn
so show us the flow and passionate ebb
of life’s force?

What would we do without birds
to show us the possibility
of flight?

What would we do without suffering
to lead us beyond our painful confines
in search for joy?

There are lots of big open questions
but most answers are small
and that's ok
better than none at all

My energy ebbs
in this autumn
like the yellow leaves
falling from mother Elm
calling goodbyes
slowly departing for another realm.

Now I can float with you
on dreams of possibilities
daring to hope again
for a season of light.
We are partners of the universe
in flight
not fright.

Dreams are made of possibilities
not of economics or hands
and bare-***** probabilities
but of living tissue
of heart.

You are the single flame in my life
when I focus on you I can dance
I have passion red and damp
I can burn until I am light.

Mourning
By Glenn Currier

I saw the woman kneeling at his grave
weeping at his premature departure.
Were her tears a liquid bridge
between their love, their passionate past
and a new still aborning present?

My heart ached for her
thinking of the way they gave themselves to each other
and to a greater cause
wondering
and hoping
his life was a small stone
for building something
beautiful.