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…

ice is forming –

on the windows –

now.

i hear the whistle of the wind –

its song,

so sad!

everywhere –

in cold secluded -silence.

every-thing –

captured

within grey!

no longer do the birds in joyful chorus-

sing happily their songs.

their words lie frozen –

broken as the surface of the sky.

i touch the glass –

to wipe the discontent away –

to see if i may find you there –

peering in –

desperation eyes –

searching –

longing!

but i find only lonely shades of winter –

placid as the frozen sea –         

of your indifference!

in houses we did not build,

we occupy rooms –

temporary tenure.

with purpose supposed,

we hang portraits of authority –

masters of what we can never truly own.

rigid –

we become –

to change.

influence to alter even the color of our conviction – disallowed.

God forbid a door left ajar!

access denied –

unless pre-approved –

requisition ratified.

and if –

somehow –

allowed entry –

disregard any inclination to linger.

there is no option of reciprocated accommodation.

your presence merely filler
to reconcile empty from an equation of existing – all alone…

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…

God.
some would say – all knowing one.
others,
perhaps – omnipotent.

at some point, spoken of –
in close companionship with dear,
and oh my,
and almighty.
or maybe referred to – Argus.

whatever your concept of creation –
regardless your attraction to any particular dogmas –
your conviction dictates my perception.

i suppose i could be persuaded to believe –
however,
my belief would not be tied to hypothesis –
co-dependent with proof.
(faith)
and so,
the opportunity –
as presented at this juncture –
lies in your ability to convince –
remove doubt from the sanctuary –
of –
my believe…