The silence of the wee morning hours
Too far past Midnight,
Secrets kept and hidden
The street lights shine like stars
The potential of Dawn,
Thrumming in wait
Red-gold rays ready to burn memories
1 The days are coming when all my heroes will die
Those icons I cherished in my youth
I thought they would stay with me
Forever
But I have felt it
That creeping inevitability
The draining sands of time
The frankness of mortality
The justice of death spares none
But there is some small solace
In the everlasting tangle of memory
Indelibly etched on still beating hearts
Remaining in the face of all that fades away
Am I the sum of my hobbies and habits
Defined by the things that I do?
Athletic, academic, industrious, creative,
Fastidious and hardworking,
A homemaker, a professional,
A friend, an intellectual
Is that really just me?
Don’t ask for my opinion, certainly.
For I do not know myself.
I would like to say that I knew once,
But I’ve no certainty of that.
Sometimes I forget myself and maps of memories superimpose themselves upon the present.
If I continue down this road, a favorite restaurant is there on the right. Alternatively nondescript and garish doors and window walls to businesses wholly foreign to me, save for quick-glimpsed signage and placards, forgotten almost instantly upon reading. Here, a quiet cafe. And here, a tiny used bookstore. Next, a computer repair shop, a furniture store, a sketchy bodega. Sun-drenched storefronts blur as I pass by, a hazy golden film washing everything out. I should reach my destination soon.
Wait, wait. Wrong street. Wrong city.
Another time. Another life. Another me.
I know a lady
Always, always wandering
A rolling stone
An unmoored ship
Drifting on tides
Capricious, wondrous
Never-ending, never stopping
But always, always returning
Out she goes
Cresting new shores
Making waves
Wearing down
The rhythmic lullaby of perpetual motion
Rise and fall
Ebb and swell
Push and pull
Sometimes placid
Sometimes tumultuous
But always, always moving
Ever moving still
I’ve a pocket full of caramels
A sweet secret in hand
Transporting bits of solace
Happier moments
Simpler comforts
Hidden treasures
So long lost
Save for brief snippets
Olfactory memories
Flavored feelings
Dancing dreams unlocked
Shaken free of time’s dust
But for a few seconds
Enough
Give me a kiss before leaving
Darling
Give me a kiss before dark
A softly sweet token of love
Beloved
A promise before you embark
A kiss to hold onto, to cherish
Dearest
To remember as memory grows dim
Give me a kiss ere you go
Sweetest
Though parting is ever so grim
Whisper softly
Whisper sweetly
Let me taste
The coming dark
Sing me praises
Sing me anthems
Let me feast
On men’s full hearts
Tell me tales of bloody glory
Tell me tales of dread renown
For I am but another story
One more conquest of your crown
A cage of your own making is the greatest trap of all
No one else knows such fears to paralyze you
To feed upon your insecurities
To lay bare the raw nerves of pain
Exposed and buzzing
Bleeding
Iron bars of disappointment
Weighted shackles of rage
The burning brands of frustration
Stretched upon the rack of impotence
A feast of despair
Melancholy melodies
The cadence of a life
The deep thrum of disappointment reverberating in a hollowed chest
The jangling crescendo of shattered dreams
The mocking chimes of lost opportunity, tinkling goals never to be realized
The steady beat of daily failures
The cacophony of discontent
