We all have our own way
of disappearing in ourselves.
How we crave to be human,
to have toes that wiggle and skin that hangs
a centimeter further from our hips than we
would like.  The way we cling to feelings that
will always be fleeting and wed ourselves to
permanence like the woman standing before
the mirror on Monday morning will even
recognize herself come Friday. We imagine how to become
one with ourselves, with the earth, to eventually
succumb to the love of the Divine and match ourselves
perfectly with another human soul,
but that was a
wish for yesteryday, and
tomorrow knows nothing.