Now and Then

There is now the sense of
not being right with anything.

Back in the old-school
day I was not fragile,
was only serious minded.

All these years and when
I found it, it was seen
as half full, yet the glass
was not mine to taste from.

Now so convoluted with those
tiny hairline fractures that
could shatter at any moment
the thing that would be torn
apart, how life threatens to
break a heart over and
over again.

How today everything I saw
or heard or felt was such a
reminder of loss that I ask
myself, How much is too much?
I couldn't begin to reason
a guess from the fragmented
thoughts and tones of

perpendicular ideals that
only come from feeling too
much, going too deep for
there ever to be much hope
of finding the way back.
How true? Too fragile for
love, after all.