As Is

I could have left it as is
my tall wanting of something else

of an embrace or a convergence
or a hope with leftover sweetness.

instead, I had to spill the contents
of my well-polished self

let sextillion memories seep out
far beyond my sweeping

It was an etching deep and true
that cracked the little-me bowl

mingling those tender details of my life
with the far-flung universe of being

It was a crack that began like
the dusting of a spring dawn

revealing those hidden meadows
where common joys hide

A place barely legible, lightly seen
with no desire to impede my ambitions

or intrude on the sanctity
that had been my corridored-self for so long

And in the midst of this discovery
I became wonderful with expectation

I could see many tapers burning within
their foreverness of life steady

They were leaning inward, confirming
the truth that this life yearns to bestow

That they had been waiting,
simply waiting there for me,
for me to arrive, as is.