A Note to Myself

Life is the only way

to get wet in a puddle,

cry your grasshoppers in fall,

ride on a rainbow;

to be a candy,

or savour its sweet juice;

to tell winter

from every time it’s not;

to hover in a dilemma,

puzzle about answers,

to search the least of all possible misplays.

An extraordinary time

to remember for a moment

a sick night held

with a bowl of pomegranate seeds pressed one by one by your daughter;

and if only once

to stumble upon a bridge,

end up saturated in one stream or another

Lose your desire in the reality;

and to follow a sound of waves with your ears;

and to keep on thinking

something never happens.