The only thing
That we’re charged
With in this
Life is simple
Do the absolute
Best you can
Not given circumstance
Upbringing or status
Simply the best
You can muster
Despite your shortcomings
No one is
Better than you
At doing you
Therefore be you
The best you
Because that’s one
Thing no one
Besides you is
Qualified to do
Your laughter peals
Like steeple bells
In some far
Off town reminding
Me of time
It sounds to
Me quiet like
Rain tapping the
Window and sometimes
As loud as
Rolling thunder across
Wheaten plains but
Mostly it’s those
Barely noticed giggles
That tickle me
Like snowflakes that
Alight on noses
What is it
Like to not
Remember to lose
Those things held
So dear or
Is it simply
The reference point
Which we lose
Do we miss
What’s gone if
We can’t remember
It being there
Or does its
Absence simply
Mean that there’s
Room for more
Even a door
Feels the pain
Of constant knocking
When it remains
Closed to everything
As a boy
He held but
One thing in
His heart which
Was to wander
Free amongst the
Forest treasures and
Dance in moonlight
But he lived
Amongst the beasts
In towns made
Of pride greed
And anger so
All he could
Do was wait
Until that one
Harvest moon upon
Which his path
Would be shone
Taking him home
To the shire
And his fae
We all
Undress at
Some point
Timidly and
Cautious or
Passionately and
Wonton but
Eventually we
Get naked
Often in
The dark
But my
Daybreak has
Happened and
I stand
Before you
Right here
Right now
Blemished and
Old imperfect
No more
Hiding behind
Words or
Romance or
Candlelight or
Mirrors this
Is me
The truth
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 