An Adagio on Becoming One
By Don Iannone

Nothing left to live for
until you strip away the illusions,
and tumble down the hill to the very bottom,
where you learn to start over again.
Nothing real to live for,
as long as you cling to faded memories,
jutting up like rugged mountain peaks,
cutting deep incisions into dark clouds.
Nothing meaningful--until
the rain comes,
and washes away the stilted memories,
carrying you downstream--all the way
to where a sunny calm ocean appears,
making you one with life.