Accepting Things Are They Are Poem by RIC BASTASA

when i was new in this place
i like seeing and staring at things
and think about how to make them more beautiful
on the way i want them changed
from my one
point-of-view and so if something is so short
i try stretching them
even if there is pain and i always think that
all things are flexible and that with a little
retouching
they then fit as i see it fit.

there were storms. There were instabilities
there were unnecessary silences
and there were times when i was forced
to keep my mouth shut
and hide myself in a dark room
and sleep and let time pass by
like some moments
that i do not like to remember
that i like to throw up
and then mumble and then
surrender like a defeated soldier.

and then there is this subsiding
there are tiny waves, gentle winds, and
restive sands, and moments
of solitude

this may be nearer to an end
but look, we arrive at the point to accept things as they are
that changes are shaped like pointless objects
and blunt as they are
we do not want them sharpened
because sharpness has no use at all
to all these blunt happenings.

things appear and they talk and we listen.
we shake their hands. we know they are strangers.
we let them in and seep like rain to our sponges.

we no longer shake our shoulders. we listen.
i do not know if i really smiled when i first confronted them.
they are here. and as you tell me, i agree, i make most
of what is here. This is my best form and i am showing it now.