of water-colors and rain
unable to feel – fulfilled.
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…
some days, just the gatekeeper to an empty lot…
this piece for you –
the abandoned one.
solitary confinement,
it seems,
in a world of (not always) smiling faces.
for the you that wishes to be he,
or she,
or really any of the they.
for just one minute of any given day,
to understand feel –
as much as the absence of touch.
this piece for you –
owner of less than (it seems) enough.
shepherd without cause –
gatekeeper to an empty lot.
how often,
in life,
do we pass each other on the street –
share paths –
travel in the same direction –
yet unaware the other exists?
today i saw a homeless man,
and after the initial wave of sadness left,
i found myself wondering if just maybe it was his choice?
while hard to imagine –
life devoid of the accoutrements we deem mandatory for contentment,
maybe it was his way of avoiding the pain of indifference.
just maybe he chose to be lost –
less painful,
than merely being –
forgotten…
what then…
standing too close to the edge
silence from another room
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 our regret…
when you wish upon a (fallen) star…
awakening
on a visit to the shore…
sometimes i visit the shore,
here 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…