Sometimes . . . .
I suppose it should be enough
to just sit still, you know
As in to sit quietly and just
listen to the emptiness of nothing
or to be someplace, like,
say by the side of a lake somewhere
which is a real place to me
off Seven Lakes Drive,
which is up by Sloatsburg, New York.
I hold this place sacred . . .
It’s enough to be there with nothing else
but the whisper of a breeze
or to hear the sounds of crickets
or to enjoy the peaceful noise of summer.
Sometimes . . . .
It’s enough to feel,
or to be of an understanding,
which is enough for the moment,
and words are almost like a pollution
because words are unnecessary
and for the moment,
you can take in the softness of absolute silence
and be just fine.
It’s enough to detach from the right and wrongs,
or the doubts, the misleading curiosities,
and inaccurate assumptions
that distract us
from an accurate version of ourselves.
We are far more beautiful than we think.
At least,
I think so.
It’s enough to sit back and say, “ah,”
or if nothing else,
it’s enough to wipe your mind
from its previous cobwebs
and the sorry moments or endless apologies
and for the time being;
it’s enough to allow the moment to change
from one to the next
(so we can breathe)
It’s enough to have a good meal
and be satisfied.
Or, better yet, it’s enough to share a meal
and be so full
because of the person you are with.
Sometimes . . . .
It’s enough to think to yourself
and think of who you love,
or how they make you feel.
It’s enough to think of who you miss,
or the things you wish for,
or the things you did
and the things you wish you could undo,
just as easily.
Or better yet, it’s enough to think about
the words you wish you could take back;
and while time cannot be reversed,
nor can words be unsaid
perhaps we can learn a little something,
or, so I hope,
and maybe we won’t find ourselves here as often
regretting a minute we missed
to kiss someone once more
just before they go.
Sometimes . . . .
It’s enough to be yourself.
It’s enough to indulge in absolute silence
without the melancholy of loneliness
and to notice that hey, yeah,
I’m okay.
Sometimes . . . .
It’s enough to have scars,
or to have a weaknesses, or a ghost from the past
or to have the emotional breaks and abrasions,
but still, regardless of the damages;
at least we still have the wherewithal to realize,
that despite the fact that life is not fair,
or that we argue or fight,
love is not dead (and neither are we)
and, at least we can stand up again
or try again
to the best of our ability,
and give ourselves another chance
to be redeemed,
or, to redeem each other
There are no guarantees in life.
And, I think by now
we both get that,
No one ever promised you that life would be easy
and no one ever said that happiness is a sure thing.
no, this takes work, like anything else.
Hell, even being lazy takes work.
(sometimes)
No one promises peace and harmony,
and if they do, be careful,
they might be trying to sell you something.
Sometimes, it is best to understand
the problems and weight upon our shoulders
are not always what we assume.
Sometimes, it’s just our old friend Mr. Chaos,
looking to pull a trick
and add some confusion.
But –
Sometimes, it’s good enough to sit in your own company
and reflect
or to just be still, or, to be there, as in,
right in the moment,
and to sit with someone you love
and while you sot there; all you have to do
is just be there.
No words. No reason to say anything.
no . . .
it’s just enough to see love staring back at you
beautiful as ever
and you smile.
The Written Addiction 