And love, life and breath
And all I’ve never grasped for
Are fleeting, I know
This is the true face of sin
Eternity on a roundabout
Cut off from your roots
A single, static dimension
Reflections upon dirty glass
An ending most abrupt
Maybe your next step will be your last, but you don’t “get” to know beforehand. And instinct is absent.
The floor under your feet will tell you after the fact whether it was ever, at all, true.
And truth, it has been queried, “What is truth,” but I ask you, what is trust? What is trust?
Trust, kept buoyed by hope, took forever to fall away, and these believing eyes with it.
Expectation is only of the coming eve’ and the promise of exasperated sleep, and I praised it more than once.
One morning revealed the night had stolen the vestiges of trust, breaking free all that hope bound.
The only evidence of either, some sense of un-nameable shock. Something’d been there, but what?
Then life’s replaying of horror: The all that was and the all that’s gone. Each breath, each day, each night.
Sitting ignorant alone
The darkened theater of life
Waiting still for the inevitable ending
Where they finally meet and ride away
Having long since fallen
But the screen faded many minutes ago
The credits rolled
When did I look away and not see
Love, of course
I finally hear the brooms
Sweeping away the left-behind
The popcorn and candy and bad dreams
The exit sign flickers as if clearing its throat
The dark laboured not
The grand-finale in sight
And already dusk