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.