Friday, December 18, 2015

Nothing Else

can't I like Oliver Sacks feel sharply
why is it all vague soft though there
thought emerging timidly half-formed

he was no less confused unsure of even
his intelligence one knows one's limits
then surprisingly at times goes beyond

out of my way ego forever comparing
judging doubting rarely measuring up
notice never enough to entirely satisfy

that only comes as love tender moments
erase distinction between self and being
here now with you nothing else counts

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