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.
Notes:
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
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.
Notes:
“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
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.
Notes:
I’m not ready to break yet. And silly as it may be, the memories of past sustain the effort.
T:9
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.
Notes:
Square one is nice to fall back to, but square one is too far back…
T: 13
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.
Notes:
Still, it’s dawn again. Rest is important too.
T: 14
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.
Notes:
Time to get moving again…as though I ever should have stopped.
T: 6
