like bukowski
with his bluebird
there is a pain in my heart
fluttering fragile wings
fluffing itself up
trying to be bigger than it is

i see
the fear
is of me realizing
I am not what matters
this self is not the center
of it all

and though I call it fear
for I am afraid
of the fading of me
and the importance
I try to give to this
expression of myself
singing my song
this is a good thing
and I see it
for what it can be

see the joy I can bring
to my wife
imagine the strength
and wisdom
I can bring to our child
who at this moment grows
while I seem to shrink
if only in my own eyes

there will always be me
regardless of how far
from self-conciousness
i am able to venture
in this lifetime
caring for those whom
I am learning to love
more than an afternoon
alone writing
more than a weekend
with a stack of books
and a pot of coffee

the less I am
the more we become
a family without an ego
that is fearful and reactive
clutching self embracement
becoming unembraced
a light turned out
and not just for the night

Reach out and touch someone....

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