Gain

When Destiny comes, don’t question her.
Don’t fret over how much time you’ve lost.

When the knock sounds,
just look up from your writing
and out your window,
eyes half-closed,
gazing at the sky,
the dark leaves
of your favorite tree
outside this house,
where you’ve waited all these years.

Then smoothly pad on over,
open the door.
Meet her fresh face, breathless,
eyes aglow
with the most enchanting news;
“did you know you belong right here, and right now?”

She brushes in past you
and you’re just thankful,
so thankful she’s finally arrived.
Off she goes in the house,
unpacking while you trail behind,
smiling at all her plans and souvenirs.

Then at night, after the meal you’ve prepared,
and the fire you’ve tended,
quietly lie down next to her
and hold every part of her.
How shallow her breath,
so unlike what you thought purpose would be.

This is how it goes for some of us.
The world chokes,
and only the lavender light remains.
We’ve fallen into love,
this rapture from within ourselves,
at last we have what everyone talks about,
the experience of “me.”


Destiny rolls over,
rolls like silver cylinder and asks,
“don’t you want to?”

All I can do is hold her,
All I can do is stare past her;

I am my own warmth now.
I am the heather-orange coal beneath.
I am the burning becoming.