I used to know
how to be a friend,
back when the story of “me”
seemed solid and definite,
a menu of how to feel,
what to expect,
how to act.
But, as I step outside this story,
observing it like snippets
of a remembered dream,
it seems slowly to crumble,
like a building made of air.
So here I stand,
without an edifice,
looking out from nothing
into nothing,
not knowing
what I should be.
Looking out into the world,
I can trust what created us
to let me be just as I am,
without a plan.
When I meet someone afresh,
I can likewise trust
this energy that binds us,
without a history,
in a moment of spontaneous creation.
So, if I met you again,
as if I had never met you,
as if there were no story,
I might discover
how to be your friend.
Standing in that common space,
we could be ourselves,
not striving for connection,
but enjoying what already is.