Together We Be

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.