a delicate contingency




I am not the me,
not the me you thought I’d be,
not the one to set you free
and not the one you once believed
would stem the tides of seas.

I am more than me,
not the one you had foreseen,
but just like you I had a dream –
a delicate contingency –
depending on a “we.”

image: Untitled blue

  • I love this poem.
  • Thanks, Qazse. I thought it was fitting recently for several reasons.
  • Thanks. I wasn't sure this one would resonate, because it was one of those things that occurred to me when I was really tired. But I'm glad I wasn't the only one to get it.
  • It is "we." Wow.
  • PJ
    It really does all depend on a "we" doesn't it?
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