Together We Be

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Everything 
I am 
is a figment
of a man’s imagination,
and the two of us dance
in each other’s heads.
I imagine him
and he me,
and somewhere beyond
and inside this,
we exist,
holding on to outer spaces,
faces
and things we see,
anything we can do
to reduce the experience
of what it means
to be
or not to be,
but that’s not
my question,
because I’m not him
nor he me,
and therein lies
the mystery
and the truth,
and the serenity
found in the grace
to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom
to know the difference
is one of perception
inside a sacred space
within a space
within a space
that is home
to more than a single member
of the human race,
but everything that exists
with or without a face.
To care
or not to care
is not a choice
I choose to make in this space
that is neither mine
nor yours
because this space
is furnished with trauma
and pain,
bosons and quarks
and other things
I can’t explain
like hope and love,
dreams and ice cream,
stars and trees that
bend and sway
in winter breezes
that chill to the bone
inside my body
that holds tears
of joy and sadness
at the madness
we sow
and reap,
at the anger we bestow
on others
and keep
at the ready
as if the level
of outrage
we can direct
at others
keeps us steady
on a shared journey
to a North Star
that can be bought
and sold,
or reached by car,
investigated
and probed,
researched and packaged,
best served cold.
This is a story
we have been told
and one I refuse to share
or hold,
because life is a mystery
containing history
and things I cannot fathom
or see,
all of which
contribute
to me
becoming me,
and we dance
and we sail
the waters of a primordial sea, and next to us
is you,
and together we be.