dailies

now that the deluge is over
so hard so strong so blue
i recall ms dickinson looking
out her own window
and exclaim it is all too much
how does one live
i wonder how can
we know a state of not-life
we only know a state of life
with all this muchness how can one live
but we know nothing but life
we don't fathom ourselves
before birth
we can't know ourselves
after death
we only know life right now
and sometimes it is good