Even Then

 To know a thing -

even if it be your

very own self -

find out what it is 

before you have arrived; 

discover somehow what it is

like when you are long gone.

Does is it sit so

very still when alone?

Does it turn gossamer 

and scamper off at the

departure of others.  A shadow

fleeing into mist.

To get a sense of what is, 

an impression, a taste, a 

good long smell of anything 

it has to be savored, turned, and

tended to over time. 

It has to be curated 

by your soul for

many, many moons; 

many suns.

Will it stay in its

glory and wonder, or

fade quickly and become

dust as all around it

goes, either away

or closer in?

The thing that shows up

here and now may not look

or even seem like the very

same thing that shows up

in ten days, or ten years, or 

ten decades.  Even 

your

very 

own 

soul.  Puzzle over

the how and what of things,

learning the full measure

of the cloth of a thing so you 

might slowly begin

not only to expect, but

to genuinely find a deep camaraderie

with and hungry desire for the one 

that shows up.

Abiding tenderly with whatever

comes to become your harlequin

and your gentle, fitful comrade. 

Even if it be your very own

self and patchwork luminous soul.

Even then.