I’ve seen countless men and women
walk down nearly as many paths
and not a one knew where they were going.
You could see it, shown on their faces,
though they were happy to pretend.
I myself confess to being lost,
casting sails to shifting goals,
that I won’t grow old
chasing a few sweet words
I have felt no fondness
from days spent watching shadows,
nor in pretending night won’t fall.
And those days spent chasing a mirage
are not my only folly.
But every storm I’ve weathered,
behind receding clouds,
had clear bright skies,
over a wild land
where I bathed in a cool spring breeze.
I have found no refuge in indifference,
but in walking sandy shores,
being among the figures there,
polished and tarnished gems atop our mother’s crown.
I believe THIS is heaven,
or, at least, a haven,
Where the sky is our shared breath.
Where vast and green, and cool blue
roll away in equal measure.
Purpose cannot exist in an eternity
yet we would spend one searching for ours.
Simplicity escapes us,
beyond words, imperfect,
a sound not yet a word.
All the wisdom of this earth
in a sigh, a wail, a coo;
in the wellspring of your laughter,
where I learned best.
There are no words which can capture
the passage of time
or the images in a dream,
or the feeling of a nightmare.
We must first mourn our inner world,
that we are alone in it,
before we can celebrate
that the world is ours alone.
I want to pick up my life and go nowhere, to go someplace where I can forget my name. To go anywhere that I can just sit and listen to the love songs the trees sing in the wind. It would be nice, just to go somewhere freshly renewed by spring. To sit and wiggle my toes in the soft, green grass. To press my body down against the warm, sun drenched earth and turn my face upward to watch heaven roll by. There my fears, doubts, and regrets are just air to be exhaled.
All that seems so far away. Here I wish, in secret, that the cities would all fall apart. Perhaps then, I could take in the view, and stop reminiscing about good times I never knew. Here each breath is a weight settling in my stomach. Here my ghost rises to walk among men driven mad. Here I sleep in the belly of a coiled serpent. Though my mind is trapped, my heart yet yearns for freedom.
So take me out to nowhere, where the world is still young, untamed, and leave me out there, nowhere, where none yet know my name.
It’s an intricate web that holds the pieces together; connecting the corner of the house to the porch light you leave on every night solely to turn it off every morning. Each evening we go out, spread our arms, and fall backwards, praying we’ll get caught up, but we just go plummeting through. From one web to the next, crashing down, tangled and pinned, until we’re on the floor. Then we pick ourselves up enough to crawl back home, grateful that someone left the lights on.