As I explore the poetry I wrote in the past, I discovered this and at the moment it pleases me. That's how poetry is: one moment I love something and the next I think it's tendentious and silly. Let's see how this one works, okay? I leave the date on it, so that it can testify to my past self and his writing. (?)
November, 2001
Let go, let go, let go.
Let go of fear.
Fear of dying;
fear of injury, of being maimed.
Fear of being alone, of being poor,
of being without a home.
Let go, let go:
of the fear of poison,
the fear of violence,
the fear of war,
the fear of robbery
and random terror.
It has all come and gone,
before, you have come and
gone, before,
and will not lose any chance
to be more than you are.
Let go of fear. It serves nothing.
Surviving is nothing.
Dying is nothing.
Let go, let go,
of fear. There is nothing
to miss, there is no score,
other than nothing to nothing,
forever. Hold on to what you love,
that only, let go
of all else.
