Uncertainty.

There are so many uncertainties of life.
One of them cannot be you.
If I wake,
or when, if we’re being optimistic about the continuation of life,
I would like to know that you
are the same.
Or changed in a way that I can recognize
or breathtakingingly different
in a way that I can believe.
I want to know that even though nothing in this world is constant
except for the thought of death and the notion of change,
I want you to be.
I think it is an impossible task I am setting you up with.
Although you probably think you are
inflappible.
I believe in you, in the slightest and most uncertain of ways.
Nothing is constant or certain,
but I want you to be.

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4 thoughts on “Uncertainty.

  1. i like the clean lines of your starkly beautiful poem. thank you for sharing it with me today. tony

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