one day this pain will have a place.
i will be able to hang it up on the wall and gaze upon it,
like a hunting prize.
i want to listen to the rain,
i want to embrace the earth,
i want to love the air.
the hours of the day passing like neighbors do,
waving as they leave and come back to me.
art does not have to be good to exist.
a life does not have to be abundant to be lived.
one day this pain will have its place on my wall,
along with every other pain i've ever felt.
i'll view them with the same indifference, eating an apple that is in one hand,
the other rested in my hip,
and thinking rather,
on the littler, more wonderful things.
will it rain tomorrow? the clouds allude to no such thing, but you can never know.
shall i eat dinner outside if it doesn't? and share my meal with the ants. i don't even mind when they bite.
and when, my thoughts abandoning the wall decor completely, the sun sets and air buzzes, i will drink the air like sweet wine.
i'll forget this pain eventually, or at least, how it felt, their only remnants a stain on my wall.
maybe i won't ever be able to get it off but no mind.
my mind is already full of littler, more wonderful things.
i put on my socks and put on my shoes.
i am late to have coffee with my friends
where we will laugh about our pain as if none of it matters.
it doesn't, really.
because we have already moved on to littler, more wonderful discussions,
all more amusing.
one day this pain will have its place
and so will the hours.
going and gone like a paper boat on a stream,
the sunlight rippling the water's surface.
this pain will have a place, separate from me,
i am all the littler things of this world.
isn't that wonderful?
oh it hurts now when i picture it,
but wonderful, still.
