When body and mind lie compromised
spirit steps forward to assure
or ego takes over to condemn
to either, the reply should be with grace,
but when hungry whispers collide
clamoring for definition
their call for clear intention
feels like a taunt,
and with a desperate bid for order
honesty muddies into manipulation
a well-seasoned skill underscores
that there is yet an "I" who can not be trusted.
An I, ever anticipating the pop-quiz.
An I, limiting the potential sphere of influence.
She needs to hear, control is a fallacy,
that flux is all that has ever been promised.
It is a sacred dance
to listen and record
arranging and rearranging
until meaning is found in the message.
With a nod to insecurities, I surrender
What endures, endures.
Who remains, remains.