a false hope,
mindless optimism,
delusion.

an unattainable target,
an unachievable goal,
self pity.

a false hope,
misunderstanding,
regret.

love,
or not,
forget.

remember,
repent,
rejuvenate.

forget,
fall,
repeat.

All is well in the World;
except for a
storm in a teacup

                                                   it brewed too long,
                                                a scathing taste of
                                               bitter,
                                              a scalded tongue
                                             leaving
                                            feelings of acerbic
                                           numbness.

a love lost, wondering;
cannot find home where home is,
but finds home where there is none.
A love confused, but truly convinced,
cruelly entangled in a myriad of loose ends.

But where loose ends meet,
acceptance born:
a love lost alone,
has no home,
but is home.

In universal terms*;
                      a thousand lifetimes come & go
                      in the blink of an eye
                                            
                ­                            I overrated the importance of my existence
                                            and now I'm chasing leaves on the breeze.
                                                         ­         
                                                       ­           
                                                     ­             perhaps                    
         one day the breeze will fail
         and the leaves will sit willingly, still;
         hungry to be examined.
                                    
                  ­                  Only (I discover)
                             I was never chasing leaves
                                 Just lost in the wind.

brain scrub my mind,
ev'ry speck
'til there's none to find.
mind please cleanse my soul,
my body
needs you whole.

soul do cleanse my heart,
teach it
love and lust apart.
Clean me whole,
through and through
make my judgment true.

a sealed confession written on the inside of my eyelids,
visible only when wanted to be seen.
when opened, the confession becomes an admission,
what is will then have been.

only you or I may open it,
and only if we please.
let it whisper wind through the branches,
and tell tales among the trees.

may it foresee the future and remember the past,
but let it not change us, to our very last.

there is a river that flows
through the fabric of our being,
vitality within.

a convergence of convulsing capillaries
reinforced with life,
delicate like a spider's web,
glistening like a galaxy of stars;
the shimmering dewdrops that make up the moments we never forget.

there is a maelstrom in my mind,
that stirs the tranquil waters
of my soul.

the river meanders, forever wondering;
where is the sea,
but it's waters cannot swell without
a thousand conjoining trickles.

so the river runs,
its course never set,
a tear on moisture-stricken skin,
never losing momentum.

so run river,
get to the sea.

I'd a poem for you,
if I could.
I'd write one from the heart,
you know I would.