We Know Not What Comes (...conversations with life)

I sit low, comfortable on the floor.
A blanket wrapped around me.
A good dog behind me as if a backrest.
Sunlight streams in. Illuminates blond pine floorboards around me,
as if the sun were by my side.
And the questions begin.

Where do I go from here?
What do I do? the mind begs.
Just sit,
wait, answers life through the sunlight.
I whisper to you through the warmth of a fire.
I enter you in the touch
of a man’s fingers across your cheek.
I remind you that I am here
through the soft caress of candlelight and memory.

Yes, but how do I get there?
The questions keep coming.
Don’t rush me answers life, through the sigh of the dog.
I need to evolve.
I cannot be molded or blueprinted.
I am not an assumption of what is supposed to be.
I am not a goal made in your mind.
Yet it is in the mind that you all make me a goal.
Am I not expected to be a house,a family
the proverbial dog, like the one behind you
waiting within,
slippers and newspaper nearby?

No! Not yet, my heart screams.
We, you and I live free of these confinements,
these assumptions of what you, life, should be.
You are organic.
Show me where to go.
Show me where we will be.
I am here to follow your lead
to walk down the path materializing before us.


For Tyler.