so softly the summer rain falls

my is –

interrupted –

fades into the vastness of was.

replaced,

perhaps,

be it ever so briefly,

by yet another is…

when yesterday was today,

surreptitiously culled from could be,

to become,

you and that version-of-the-day me,

did interact.

now I find your is – no more.

and realizing my inability to continue my journey with you,

into your was,

makes me pause…

how apropos – on such a day as this;

Hummingbirds and Seraphim!

and as your you ascends from the tomb of could not,

the universe itself is moved to tears –

so softly the summer rain falls…

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faith

sitting on the shore –

watching reflections on the water;

yellow sun,

blue sky –

solitary bird flying into the horizon…

 

how small –

am i –

in a world so big,

how insignificant…

why do i wake?

routinely do the things i do?

for what purpose?

i throw a stone into the water –

causing ripples –

disturbing the placid serenity –

and for a moment – i am known!

but the water is deep,

my pebble – oh so small –

and once again –

the surface still…

i cannot believe that there is no tomorrow –

no sunrise chasing night –

no need to – believe…

 

for surely –

God – in all his greatness –

created more than this small holder of dreams –

and even when i cease to be –

in this place –

i will most surely – rise again!

great is my faith –

oh so strong my belief!

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on parchments of presume

then,
now.
segregation of time –
collectively contained within the confines of our existence.

regardless the magnitude of desire –
the appropriation of intent –
our tenure in the halls of is fades.

what of it –
then,
priorities written to define autonomy over possibly?
while vividly drawn on parchments of presume,
they fade like watercolor in the rain.
ubiquitous as assumptions of priority

misread lines from one-act plays of suppose…

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acquaintance – less than friend…

elusive –
this thing called trust.
in a life spent pursuing dreams,
it remains the foundation of our reality.
easily implied,
we believe without even a trace of suspect.
sometimes we linger in the moment –
sometimes even for a season.
invariably,
the walls made of presume will find confrontation with the storm of doubt.
left to loiter in the aftermath,
what will define what’s left of our belief?
 
perhaps when praying for blessing –
request clarity –
discernment between speculation versus intent.
and if,
by chance,
parallel lines cannot be drawn –
agendas of accommodation,
then barricade the path –
detour the journey of wasted time –
misappropriation of dedication –
to acquaintance,
less than friend…
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things unnecessary

things unneeded fill our days –
like possibly,
perhaps,
maybe…
 
how often do we put aside
what matters,
holding our breath –
clinching our hands,
expecting even Atlas to shrug –
for what?
a hand we feel compelled to hold?
replies to questions – unheard?
 
as callous as forget,
intangible as why –
we build our lives on
could,
should –
then wonder what went wrong
when trapped in lonely –
unremembered as even midnight
by pompous dawn!
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on the road from re-probation to redemption

concern,
or obligation?
compassion,
or prayer for judgment?
 
 
i hear you speak words of sympathy in regards to incarceration of addiction.
and yet i fail to feel conviction in your offering of feigned commiseration.
i suppose,
to understand the is of someone’s habit,
one must have lived the was of their own.
 
 
presumptuous,
don’t you think,
alms offered for atonement of sins supposed?
on what platform of implied accommodation do you feel justified offering allegiance?
 
 
prayers i hear –
utterance of intercession.
yet there you stand –
un-kneeled –
eyes un-closed,
hands un-folded.
 
 
and from the words you speak –
no consolation,
no reprieve.
 
 
to enter heaven crawling –
pleading mercy –
unclothed of all but humility;
more appropriate ending to my life –
than concealed in robes of presume,
carried ceremoniously unaffected
down the corridors of hell…

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narcissistic you…

pensive –
hypocritically – contrite –
you stand alone,
a bastion of solitude in a sea of outstretched hands…

demure in your self-proclaimed in-culpability.
astonishingly – obtuse.
 
devoid of even a trace of empathy,
i watch as you bask in your
self-righteous piety –
seemingly unaware of the absurdity –
oblivious of your own flagrant nonentity!
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is – from could be

is – does not understand,
could –
(possibility – not yet defined?).
inside the paradigms of his reality,
now is real.
(if you have now, was no longer matters).
 
how odd –
to be,
yesterday.
quite full of what was,
and what mattered,
and even – what if,
but never as necessary,
or as current,
as – what is!
 
sad,
don’t you think?
requiems for want,
not yet realized;
but not one single tear for had…
(how quickly we forget).
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abandoned

i lose my way –
inside the space –
between my hello,
and your goodbye…
time stands still.
reality – redefined.
 
i lose my way –
in the maze of your smile.
wonder,
as i wander,
how can such beauty coexist,
with so much pain –
contained,
within the enigma – of you…
 
and as i make my way
across the broken surface of your (un)intention,
i recognize the jagged edge of your sorrow.
stumble on the uneven terrain,
of your silent – disregard…
questions,
i have.
opportunity for you to abrogate – suppose.
yet truth,
you do not choose.
and inasmuch as dark
does not consume the light,
your conviction does not make the wrong of your abandon,
even
remotely
right…
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sweet gift of life

my – is –
this – moment;
all i need,
and all i’m guaranteed –
 
you may choose another agenda –
fill your days,
your – moments –
with – what if…
 
but -i,
i choose – acceptance,
gratitude,
appreciation –
 
each breath –
each moment –
sweet gift of life –
amazing!
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