Death surrounds me 
its never mine 
but always others 
I don’t know 
if I can 
let another go
leaving me here 
when its me
that wishes to 
instead of them 
life is cruel 
death is not 
it’s always been 
it never is

One more 
one last
before I 
go or
maybe return 
be they
poem or 
kiss for 
both are 
for you 
whom wherever 
you are 

I am 
then reduced 
to two 
maybe four 
when sleeping 
two open
four closed
for two 
when open 
I see
me and 
all of
things that 
you see
and four
when closed 
I see
you and 
all of 
the things 
you dream 

If for 
one moment 
we didn’t 
ever do 
but sigh
maybe life
would too
listen and 
maybe know 
how little 
big things 
really matter 

The insignificant 
of us 
is humbling 
when thought 
which so
few do
scurrying about 
making sense 
of things 
never meant 
to reason 
and yet 
we wonder 
all about 
this why 
when in
fact our 
souls want 
to think 
of where