What if that rare feeling of cosmic connection
isn’t as rare as it seems?
What if it’s just a reflection of how few
‘fellow travelers’ we make it a point
to connect with?
What if the resulting loneliness guarantees
an extreme level of depth projection?
Maybe this explains why it’s so incredibly easy
to be completely wrong about the strength
of your tether to that other person
What if bottling the inner ocean
causes others to see us as desert extremes?
What if the indefinite aging of our yearning
convinces mortal hearts to discard us
(understandably) as unattainable?
What if the majority of un-lived love
is lost entirely because of inaction?
Perhaps it’s only those busy being miserable
who have time enough to keep us
in their camp of the un-adored
What if we were taught to make room
for three or more in our beds?
What if humans weren’t asked to hide
who we really are in our heads?
What if the safeguard of consciousness itself
required us to stop keeping secrets?
Oh, if only more of our kind
weren’t so afraid of the light
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