512. Reach

Exhaustion finds the trail-blazed feet
whose ceaseless steps can’t match
the destination not quite known —

Resting there, perched on a rock,
beseeching shade and wind reprieve
from heat and silence felt alone —

How obvious, as day recedes to dark,
yet so inscrutable that luring spark.

If you force a meditation and it fails, was it worth the effort? Same for writing in circles. Like working out, I suppose I have to break back into things slowly and expect a few duds.
T: 23


511. After

You left me stories of a solemn plot,
and incomplete it was,
were it not concluded so, a sudden
period commanding all the words
to cease their flow —

And yet I now reminisce even so,
unenvied in the aftermath,
where words for all their worth
can bless me plots anew,
but none with you.

“Must it always be either less or more, either plain or grand; is it always ‘or,’ is it never ‘and?’…Just remember when you’ve had an ‘and’, and you’re back to ‘or;’ makes the ‘or’ mean more than it did before.”
Still, I guess it’s fun to visit the woods of past and hope…
T: 7

510. Growing Pains

Fallen on the final breath
just inches shy of mile line,
so close that winds could nudge
the troubled steps in kind —

Another hurdle crossed,
but eyes would rest uneasy,
knowing that tomorrow’s sun
will time yet new injuries.

I’m not ready to break yet. And silly as it may be, the memories of past sustain the effort.

509. Barren

I couldn’t miss a week of life,
a set of days so arbitrary,
that rise and settle into bed
would pass nigh mindlessly.

Yet banal weeks would stack
as pledges for the days elude,
so half a year collected dust,
and stomach grew with food.

Square one is nice to fall back to, but square one is too far back…
T: 13

508. Upkeep

Dawn grants a scarce reprieve
to those who linger sleepless
at the edge of blanket, sheets,
brewing thoughts so reckless:

But where would we envision
if not from highest peaks,
for wonder spares no bounds
of any greatness that we seek.

Still, it’s dawn again. Rest is important too.
T: 14

507. Exert

When hours hang at precipice
where priorities wait their turn,
we know then the penalties
of procrastination spurned —

Were we though ready met,
relieved of all but just one target,
no guarantee of course to give,
but hours pass with far less malice.

Time to get moving again…as though I ever should have stopped.
T: 6