When it's easier to believe.
Agreement between voices and events
The whispering in the marketplace
I can hear it, but I can't make it out.
Bells, interrupt, jar thinking, make claims.
Then, when it's quiet again.
It's less easy, alone.
Stirs in the dark, grumbles

The cold damp is no friend of old bones
Bandages have to be removed from old wounds
However much it hurts, healing requires it.
Or else be blind, blunder.

Bless you, you have no idea how inadequate you are
To the tasks you continue to set yourself.
Only your ignorance saves you from the scale of your failure.
And at the end, when it's time to return, everything
When even meaning has to be given back ?
What can that mean ?
Life, the individual, stories, desires, acts, thoughts
We aren't sufficient to contain it all, we can
never fully become.
The end.
While the mysterious other is simultaneously,
the same, self-same as ourselves and is not.
While to be other is to be alone. So many of us
might say, ‘you're not alone there.’
We still find water and drink.