waiting for the silence from another room.
the absence of arbitration.
inviting the cold disconnect of solitude –
the comfort of alone.

too often we gather in congregation of suppose.
disallow our words the freedom of truth.
and finding ourselves surrounded by assembly of deceive,
we trade our identity for the vanity of same.

how can it be –
this miracle of life –
this singular celebration of creation –
can somehow become so much less than allowed?

instead of stepping up to challenge adversary of deception,
we hide behind our banners of indifference –
feigned allegiance to (counterfeit) conviction.
yet when we find ourselves alone –
exposed –
wearing only garments of insignificance –
we shout from platform of contempt –
challenge delegation of discrimination.

uncomfortable –
wearing shoes that do not fit,

walking reluctantly through minefields of indiscretion –
conveniently hidden just under the surface of your regret.

i read –

and was forever changed.

isn’t that the beauty of this experience called life?

the ownership of interpretation.

to understand that which moves me,

may cause no similar response in you.

each time i enter this room of share,

i say a prayer before touching the keys.

to imply the words are mine would be considered the most elevated evidence of tyranny.

most often,

i rather hold close the thoughts –

contain them within the rooms of my displeasure.

however, the holder of the latch will not comply –

and all at once –

escape…

and so it goes.

these words i borrow;

thoughts entertained on visits from countries i have yet to travel –

journeys un-begun.

tonight i stand upon the balcony of suppose –

gaze longingly upon the setting sun –

surrender without reluctance my care.

what if i wake tomorrow?

what matter will it make –

these thoughts?

perhaps upon passing,

you will linger.

just long enough to take breath.

and as quickly as your exhale,

the moment gone.

apropos of disengage,

your read,

will fall along the side –

random highway –

unnamed –

so all-too-soon,

forgotten…

we sometimes stand alone.

unable to offer our heart, much less our hands.

we sometimes feel removed from companion to necessary –

transparent – just outside the fringe of need.

we sometimes,

merely – exist.

is it then,

when stumbling over could have been,

we commiserate with cant?

embrace unable?

isolate ourselves from can?

if that be the case –

if choosing failure as punctuation to the statement of our us,

what then?

surely the world will not stop turning.

regardless the light-less dark of the blackest night,

the sun will rise again.

we were not born into a world of supposition.

our fate,

never decided by rolling dice or mediums reading palms.

we sometimes find accommodation with our pain –

begin to understand the blessing of life in its absence –

and once we realize the value of letting go,

the closer we find ourselves to being held…

we sometimes share treasured conversation with angels – without wings.

or at least ones we can see –

offer words of consolation.

open doors of compassion –

sit in silent gardens of prayer for intercession –

only to realize the most important gift we could ever receive,

is already ours.

comfort –

peace undefined –

grace we could never afford,

offered freely from the God of all creation.