Poem: Life is Great

Life is Great

If this were my end,
if these woods were hollowed out
each night by the passing wind
and I were to lose every answer in the howling,
if I were to seek the warm spots of my bed
the way a mourner seeks music, if my life
were handed over to a eulogy
only I could write, I would still
not know how to proceed.

Life is great.  It consumes
every breath we produce.  It loves
a shady spot in the summer.  It divulges
desire and contracts longing to a single
glance.  It occupies use and misuse. 
It prolongs fear and reason.  There are
a million ways out of it but only one way
into it.  It becomes the reason we look
for ourselves in a crowd and avoid
ourselves in a mirror.  It overshadows
every fixation.

Life is small.  It is lost in a blink
or a stare or a lapse in diction.  Life is strong. 
It withstands every judgment.