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 our selves 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 being held…

tonight i shared treasured conversation with angels – without wings.

or at least ones i could not see.

tonight i offered words of consolation.

opened doors of compassion.

sat in silent gardens of prayer for intercession –

realized the most important gift i could ever receive,

was already mine.

comfort –

peace undefined –

grace i could never afford,

offered from the God of all creation –

tonight i lost baggage of indecision –

walked out of my past –

one foot in front of the other,

singing in my heart sweet song of hallelujah –

unafraid of my journey’s ending,

aware each breath could be –

my last…

unable to – feel…

precariously balanced between what – is,

and what could be.

clinging to the threads of hope,

praying for – recompense!

where did it go – my reason?

i held it – oh so tight –

but my footing failed,

and i slid much too quickly,

into unsure – vast sea,

unmeasured depth,

of doubt…

how rudiment –

the concept –

what is – is,

yet what can be – most often,

is not…

my prayer – today;

if i’m asleep,

this life – a dream –

please wake me!

for there are things more frightening

than tigers,

and bears…

oh – how easily your smile succumbs to my pain –

water-color compassion,

left ,

so conveniently,

out in the rain…

if you believe you have no choice in matters that define acceptability –

i listen to your opinion.

your words of implied autonomy.

i take into consideration your pronunciations of  presumed should.

what i hear,

instead –

invitation to imitation of intent.

how easy,

this manipulation of can –

evolving into could.

the obstacle,

however,

lies in the variance of vulnerability.

this life,

my friend,

magnificently manufactured scale.

and hard as you try,

regardless the weight of objectivity applied,

your up can never raise my down.

even the baggage of commiseration cannot balance the difference between your good intent,

and the indifference of my can’t…