Why did he?
What did I do?
When did he start to change?
Why is this happening?
It's not the right question
There are things, people, not in our control
We are only ourselves, our fragile human form
When our thoughts are spurting forth, frothing over the mountain top
like a mountain river in spring
and invade every corner of our mind, filling it like a bubbling tide trapped in rocks,
then let the tide pull back into the Bay to reveal
what we know, what lies beneath, like tender sea anenomes,  in our certain hearts