Really, though
What if we’re not all perfect
Warts and all
Defects and all
Deficiencies and all
Fat stomachs and malicious intent and carelessness and self-doubt and humanity and all
What if the things we want the most are the things we need the least
And the things we need the most are the things we constantly
Struggle
To even identify
What if we don’t know ourselves all that well
In the end
What if it – it, life, us, this place, this world –
Really is a sort of illusion
Cosmic hologram
Plaything of universal energies
What if it’s ok to find fault with your own self
With those around
With the world
What if you can love your country and
Still
Not like it very much some days
And you go to bed angry
Hoping to make up though time
Flies
And what if I’m so tired
Tired
Of having faith
That it will all work out in the end
That I should trust the process trust the universe trust karma trust in god and love and fairness
Trust that the measure of my goodness is well and sufficient
Statistically significant to ensure a positive outcome
All relative to what
Trust in creation and evolution
Column A and column B
The yin and the yang
Trust in my better angels
Trust in hard work and that the stitching will hold on these bootstraps
Trust in togetherness and solitude
Trust in circadian rhythms and the present moment
And trust in myself when I say things like
I’m fine
I’m happy
There have been will be still are moments
Party of one, party of three
Always odd never
Even
Comfortable enough to embrace the potentiality of inevitable potential
Even streams of consciousness are susceptible to
Occasional
Toxic runoff
Run-on sentences being the bastion of the wild, the illiterate, the desperate
But
Really, though
caroline ridgway 