This person who stares from the mirror
who thinks these thoughts I have decried
who takes these actions I abhor

This body I see before me
whose weakness I despise
whose pain I would forbid

This mind
even this mind
that has it seems a mind its own

I recognize who stares back from the mirror
I know who this is
But I wonder where is me

Till the destination
the traveler can go north or west or all the others
a destination can be set discarded and chosen anew

Till the destination
a path is taken
but it can be only taken
Till the destination
it cannot be understood

And since no other path was but imagined
no other can truly be judged more right

Till the destination
these steps these turns these stops
can only be best guessed
and still are they the best that can be done

Till the destination
the destination remains in fog
and the continuing so often hard
for till the destination so many of these are
steps but blindly taken

Unsettled discomfort
a gut that burns
Found when seeking a measure of life’s progress
when questions force doubt into pain

Pain is heard greater than measure
pain is felt greater than measure

But the one becomes mistaken as the other
discomfort is discomfort
pain measures only pain
and not the distance come
and not the progress made
and not the deep anchored intent

Pain is heard greater than measure
pain is felt greater than measure

But the measure of the steps
is in the stepping itself
and so with pain greater than measure
the next step is taken

The needs of love
seen filled by the one standing here

The needs of protection
seen filled by the one standing there

The needs of friendship
seen filled by these others who surround

Who in fact stands here
and who is it that is seen by
eyes of need

Understanding waits in tomorrow
where finally it will tell
its story of today

But the living is now
while tomorrow just out of reach
lies a distance forever away

How then now
this moment
today
How to live
before understanding

A turn to yesterday

Was not yesterday once a tomorrow
once yesterday held its secrets as a tomorrow
But now its secrets are told
thus is made visible of things become learned

To understand itself
today must wait for tomorrow
A turn to yesterday as a tomorrow
makes visible a continuing
Understanding not yet but waiting

Standing before the enormity and grandeur of this world
the mountains the mists a gentle breeze
I am left breathless and for a moment
my heart stops

Could this not then be enough
to stop the madness
could it not be
enough

So many people
moving wildly apart
crashing
And sometimes loving
not enough

The early days were really hard
many starts that stopped
many directions that ended lost
and so many starting overs
and over again

It was a long time
till smoother seas till clearer skies
Till far enough along to have a back to look back to
and to see how what didn’t make sense did

The early days were full of doubt
and so many almosts
almost never startings almost not going ons
of just dropping down
and not getting up

It took so much to get through those early days
to make it to the later years
When finally the story is told
I’m so glad I got through the early days

But since I haven’t actually started yet
(that comes tomorrow)
It would be nice to keep in mind
what lies in the early days ahead

When here
your face your hands your voice
I can believe and I can trust
the help you give

But in the distance is lost
a believe not in you
for your constancy is known
but in the worth of me
to ask

in the distance of doubt