I was never ashamed and none condemned me

[joel]

I was never ashamed and none condemned me
for made-believe play: imagination,
solitary and softly springing to being
the incalculable friends of my quiet introversion,
was rather my pride like a rescuing love—
and when socializing sought the seizure of such dreams,
I was never ashamed to nurture them yet.

New brothers I found weren’t bothered by sharing
the world where they knew me with the one that I knew;
and new sisters I gathered weren’t searching for ideals
divorced from what honesty I dared to offer—
and none condemned me; I was never alone;

I celebrated. Sun, Moon and Earth:
how I danced and delighted with dual partners,
concentrically orbiting and softly speeding through time
with no death to despair and no dread of collision—
the real and the unreal reaching unity,
if never fully, now at least nearly in my reach.
So I cannot be ashamed and none have condemned me;

yet I wonder and meditate on whether I’ve measured
a Sistine Chapel ceiling-painted life:
will mine be a life I admire for rapture;
for imagination modeling heaven;
for creativity in tandem with matter;
for love all-integrated leaning to connect
and touch me in truth, but an attempt that always falls just short?