a frozen flow, like an unfamiliar face
dripping from void to void
sculpts viscous memories from deceitful clay
into echoing tales of a never-was
that bears the fruit of the never-will-be

but perfect waves, like open-endings
are immersed in the possibilities
of living in nothing and no thing
transmuting the phrase "will not be"
into anti-vocabulary

a lily summer blooms on horizons
glistening with mercury and wonder
as waterfowl slow dance in the pale light
of a dying and star-crossed moon
to the hollow echoes of ill-fated waterfalls
that refuse to surrender to tidal gravity
and in the end, it all means nothing

but the sun still rises
and his childhood eyes open
brimming with curious wonder

the fires of yesterday
reach through the gulf of night
with acrid fingers of smoke
and ember-glowing eyes

whispering like a reality that never was
or a game that never ends
played by a life that is never lost

and in the tongue of forgotten souls
they speak in uncertain terms
of charcoal hearts and burned-out love

for they no longer see the living now
or believe in the promise of tomorrow
failing to see the glowing light
that dwells in their own ember eyes

though veiled by the clouds of silence
her full moon heart rises in his mind
and by faith alone, he offers all he is
to the invisible brilliance of her love
as she beckons from the darkness
with tendrils of stillness and peace

at times my mind and heart
forget they like each other
and they forget about my soul
sometimes all together
so i climb the nearest hill
stretch my arms into the sky
and listen as the wind
calls them to my side

my mind responds first
reaching to my chest
and timidly says "sorry"
"i'm sorry i've been stressed"
my heart forgives quickly
and lovingly looks upward
and says "it's no problem"
"i am sorry that you suffered"

hand in hand they turn
and looking deep within
they find my soul hiding
frightened by the din
they point him toward the view
and in the silence he stands tall
and remembers who he is
and how exactly he did fall

and he reaches out his hands
firmly grasping heart and mind
and together they stand strong
on this mountain top we climbed
and now whistling, we walk
from the foothills to the town
for we are ready for the world
i will not let it bring me down

a river of dried blood, flash flood
awakened by the charade
of a pretended perfection, broken
hopes for the future gasp for breath

he claws for a branch, suspended
brittle over the black torrent
as if it could hold the weight
of a thousand years

and, like every final breath,
his last breath
is a breath
out