A Poem: Contemplation on a Word

Wherever it is that souls go

When our bodies have burned

Through their time alotted ―

Which is such a small fragment

Of eternity, that our small suffering

And pain should hardly matter

Relatively speaking, that ephemeral

They are ― I am already part

There and stand with you

Even during those moments

You forget your origins ―

So what, if my head

Is occasionally in the clouds.

If you ever stop to feel a presence

Beside you in those moments

When frustration, impatience,

Fear, greed, or anger overwhelm you

With conditions and circumstances,

Maybe that is me, or that part of me

That matters, but is not matter.

More likely its all of us though,

Standing together, the small story

That is humanity forgotten,

Merely echoes, in the solid love

That is Always.