how do you get back to a place
you’ve never been?
how do you find something inside yourself
that’s never really been there?
across the empty diamond,
a breeze was blowing, gentle and serene.
the day was one of roaming
and wondering at the autumn i had seen —
then, sounding like my father,
a voice said “keep your promises, be true:
for men are good for nothing,
unless the things they say match what they do.”
the struggle’s real, and pressing,
the choice between the ideal and the urge —
no emptiness so deep
in the search