I have made something.

(Although it is small and nearly imperceptible.)

It signifies my existence. It signifies

love I have given and received.

It signifies the things I have accepted

and that which I reject.

This lifework took years

and it has worn me.

I rise from bed dark mornings

because the desire to become

more real hunts me and haunts me—

even in sleep—that dark dance.

The desire to create is the desire

to become more real.  It is the desire

to deepen understanding

of Self and Other.

I am ready again, again, again 

to succumb; to give myself

over to the art engendered

within and without.