I walk between two worlds.
Or maybe I walk between ten or twenty
Or two thousand.
Maybe we all do.
The world of innocence and experience.
The world of youth and age.
The world of spirit and matter.
Wisdom and ignorance.
The world of family and friends.
The world of prosperity and poverty.
The world where I live and walk as a spiritual being,
Wanting to just be.
The world where I feel like I must do certain things
The pain of this knowing,
The resistance that is showing.
The sleep that overtakes me, the deep that awakens me.
The radio and TV, the street and the news,
The desire to go to a cave and sing away my blues.
I walk between two worlds or at least half a dozen.
I walk and walk and walk right into an oven:
The heat of desert, cool air of northwest,
The desire to do well and be my best breaking
On the shore of knowing I am not formed.
I am so tired of waiting to be born.