abandoned –
banished to the shadows.
darkness even more profound than the thick of was…

i wonder –

if perhaps the real of is – if allowed,
could recreate the wonder of
that moment in time-
(as close as sky touching sea),
when we understood – real –

the touch,
the feel…

memory becomes the nemesis of life.
anchored in the shallow waters of forget.

a shiver,
remembering only the rush,

of nothing…

no candles lit.
no celebration.
no revelation of dreams come true.

life begins and ends –
regardless pageantry,
in spite of pomp and circumstance.

while accoutrements of consideration add a deviation to the rhythm,
they alter not the designation of its passage.
true,
we can argue the benefit of correspondence.
for purpose of justification,
we can extol the value of accommodation.
while some may find the journey cumbersome in their pursuit of a conceptualized destination,
others engage in active pursuit of extracting every ounce of occupation from each moment traveled in time.

alas,
twilight.
fading flickers of light absorbed into the was.
and as i stand facing the horizon of a brand new is,
i realize the absence of anticipation.
irrelevant –
the should-have –
the could-have –
the did-not.
all empty shells strewn upon an abandoned beach.

if allowed passage to the garden of tomorrow,
i will pursue with diligence the expectation of blessing –
reverence in the presence of allowed…

today i placed you
in my box of death -
closed the lid -
allowed your darkness,
absence - from my light...

bundled up,
with ribbons of regret,
i laid your sorrow by the door –
safe outside the fortress of my heart.

silent –
contained inside my chamber of refrain –
i watched the raindrops attach themselves to windows – closed,
clinging with cold deliberation to the glass…

today i placed your memory
where the shadows grow –
waited without sound –
allowed the silence audience in the arena of despair.

today –
i lingered for a moment more
upon the shore of your demise.
said my farewells –
loosened chains of regret,
and in that instant of your escape,
this captive heart,
realized,
for the first time,
how it felt to be finally set free…

___________________________________________

 sometimes i visit the shore,
 where my will crashes into my was.
 i  suppose the possibility exists that you just don't understand that concept, 
 or perhaps haven't found desire to travel to that particular destination.

 with the same amount of abandon you choose to deflect; i crave.
 the anticipation more impacting than any supposed drug of choice.

 i watch your eyes as i speak to my conviction. pay close attention to the subtlety of your distance.
 i wonder how it feels to understand boundaries.
 i desperately try to wrap my head around the acceptability of is; 
 my insatiable; never satisfied -
 always picking at the scab of could have been -
 often, drowning in the sea of if...

today i stood - knee deep in the waves - gazing into the setting sun. 
i imagined the sound - unavoidable hiss, as it kissed the relentless sea. 
in that moment - i understood peace.

today i, stood. 
and as the waves pounded against my defense, 
i felt the burden of can't slip away.

I will admit, in that instant, a shiver of fear found refuge;
attached itself to the sinking buoy of doubt. 
remarkable - 
however -
the deep;
accepting the refuse of regret - returning the surface, still.

today, i stood.
and instead of looking away - 
ashamed of my suppose -
i gazed with wonder past the sea of refrain,
reached out,
unafraid -
embraced the very essence of can.

today i visited the shore,
and found,
me...

broken,

some would say of themselves.

others,

slightly bent. 


either way - 

admission of irregularity. 

and while some may disrespect the autonomy of deviation, 

their denigration clearly defines the defect of their own design. 


i once shared companion with others lost in the darkness. 

as hard as we tried, 

it seemed there was no option of escape. 

imagine the freedom - 

stumbling into the light!


tonight - 

while graciously aware of my blessing - 

i find myself traveling dangerously close to the shadows. 

perhaps my journey realigned - 

not to derail my diligence - 

delivery from countries of indiscretion,

but champion to the disengaged - 

option of allegiance - 

soldier of compassion in the battle against the demons of despair...

to make it stop.

the endless sound of waves upon the shore.

the hissing of the setting sun - sliding without reluctance into the sea.

the wailing of the dying - day -

sad victim to the night.

to simply make it -

stop.



in the sweet escape of that moment -

removed from the evidence of sound -

no contemplation of why,

or what,

or even reference to suppose.



in that sacred situation of nothing -

to merely - be.




how seductive - thoughts of unbecoming.

to exit - quiet - from the courtroom of disallowed.

free at last from chains of should.

unbound - no longer - by petitions of presume.

pardoned from occurrence of something -

un-obliged -

obligated to -

nothing...

feelings.

you know the ones.

the butterflies in your stomach ones.

the coloring outside the lines undefined want.

the walk along wind-blown landscape of dreams from which no desire for waking.

(maybe not for you).

perhaps you simply pass through rooms of unchanged –

your distinction between where i began and where i end no more defined than twilight grey –

no explosion of dawn or reverence of sunset.

i enter my day riding stallions of imagination.

while you – standing there –

aware of my entry,

remain close enough to the gate for escape.

you.

dream-catcher.

pendant of treasured fondness clutched tight.

a nightlight in the fear of lonely darkness.

i can’t imagine a life after.

like hearing orchestras of contentment,

and then silence.

the nothing of an empty room.

i cannot speak to words in books of you i’ve yet to read.

but contained within the pages i’ve been given privilege to scan,

thoughts more beautiful than have –

a most necessary rain of satisfied on this desert of alone that used to be my life.

do i love you?

you decide.

for me it’s more a question of how i defined the word –

the feeling-

before you walked without precursor –

filled beyond expectation –

the empty of my could have been…