For Richard

Somewhere, way out there I know of souls who grapple With the Big Questions The ones I only hear echos of. Here on Earth, in my little nest, I play parlor tricks of the mind Looking for emptiness And finding it winking back As everything and everyone. But I don’t fool myself Into thinking it is significant Or somehow adds anything To what a single human Can and does do to further the whole. Meanwhile there are souls I know Struggling with their embodiment The tenuous hold Of dust swirling around spirit A cyclone with such a center. And it is to these rare beings Although they may curse the burden That the gifts of fecundity Have been heaped. Somewhere out there I know of great souls Who grapple with the Big Questions Not because they want to But because they must. And in my own humble way I wish them well And lend them strength As the dust settles To be only, always, this. (2/27/25)