What would you do

if you were free

of fear,

desire,

hope,

doubt?

If you were free

of your day-job?

If you had a day,

a week,

a year,

to do what you love

as you like?

I would write

poems,

a novel.

I would walk

for miles

and look

and think.

I would meet people…

Fear and despair threaten any life,

and always.

You have to go on.

[Of course these things can be done with a day-job, with fear and doubt and hope (the pain of hope, the fear that comes with hope) and the rest. It’s Saturday and I’m at home and oppressed by loneliness and fear and the hours, and a feeling of the weight of my life and my dreams, and what lacks and all the rest. But all the same you go on.]