Ocean

All is quiet on 5th street tonight

too much, too soon, a bittersweet disaster

He lost his composure

she lost a friend

and I'm tired of talking third person.

I summoned emotion from the grave I left it in

but it came at a greater cost than it was worth

To feel an ocean of love

with nothing but deserts to spread it over

while those who are thirsty scarcely catch my eye

I threw a treasure down a well

And I want it back.

The thing about mirrors is

if you don't see a reflection

it's not really a mirror.

Sometimes withholding information is

an act of aggression.

And of all the things I deserve,

I didn't deserve this.

“You deserve better,” my center tells me.

And I do.

From that grave, my love abounds in new and different ways

Friends have talents I've never noticed before

Kids have songs to sing I hadn't heard

It's easier to speak love to those who deserve it

though I'm new at doing so

I turned older this week

and among those who remembered,

a favorite friend inscribed

“we are more than our ideas” on beachwood,

quoting me to myself,

words to live by all the more.

And I will be more than my ideas.

I will love in new and more vulnerable ways

I will share with those who will share in return

I will hope for brighter and more peaceful days.

Because I am more than my ideas

And it's time for my life to live up to my ideal way of being.