Endings are hard
There is no truth to them
Always more to be seen or said
How clich'e

Beginnings are easier
But still they sprang from somewhere
I hope for the best of beginnings
Because the best soil comes from well churned dirt

High tide and low
Ebb and flow
Wax and wane

Yet sometimes there are floods
Floods that do not recede
Some floods that overwhelm

Floods that you want to be swept away in
Floods you never want to end
Floods that bring you somewhere new

Floods that change the landscape of where you were
That seem to change the world
That seem unstoppable

Yet somehow the waters recede
Wet, damp, dry, parched
What could have happened to end this flood?

Indifference, lack of acknowledgement
Ignoring the onrushing torrent has taken the strength from the all-covering ocean
When all it needed to flourish was the smallest amount of encouragement

Is this the end of the water
Or has it pooled somewhere
Waiting for the moment to rise again

Contradiction
Impossible, it captivates:
Alone while surrounded,
Crumbling while steadfast,
Contentedly miserable,
Actively apathetic,
The lazy activist,
Cynically optimistic,
Knowledgably ignorant,
Falling from support,
A teary smile.

It is all of us;
But mostly it is me,
Out of balance with no direction to go.

Then there’s my reference;
Wayward and fleeting,
It has arrived with new purpose.
It is hear to stay.

Yet my reference is also a contradiction,
As unbalanced as I.
But where I am black it is white,
Empty where I overflow,
Floating when I sink

Yet, as chaotic static can become equal to silence,
Or many waves will calm each other;
So is my reference.
My mirror
And how better to see yourself but through a mirror?

My reference is my mirror
Oppositely identical;
And so we too are a contradiction
How unlikely?
How fated.

Rays of brilliance shine over the horizon
Beautiful and unstoppable in the way that only the sun can be
Nothing could be more inevitable

Yet their remains a cold sting
Night has refused to give up its hold
What would have been dew has become an icy frost

Jagged and harsh are the crystals
Each threaten like shards of glass
But like an onrushing train, the sun continues to rise

The rays begin to glance the shards
For a moment the prisms resist, scattering the light
But inevitability is equally harsh and ever more stubborn

As the sun rises, the frost has no choice
It has to melt, nothing else could ever have happened
And ever so slowly, but predictably, the crystals melt and drip to the ground

Warmth beats down and the ground drinks it up, along with the liquefied crystals
It longs to be warm, to shed its icy shell
All the while, inevitability pushes on

Am I being strong or weak?
Nobel or pathetic?
I can't trust my instinct anymore
Who will tell me?

Is it the temptress I turn to?
Or the savior?
Is it obvious deception?
Or subtle care?

Am I standing for what I feel,
Or caving to what was felt?
Now I ask the wolf
Will you eat me?

Yet the wolf does not reply
She simply circles
But all the while I want her closer
Tis a dangerous game I play

Will the wolf warm me as I sit in the cold?
Or devour me?
Only one thing can be sure,
Her teeth do glisten

The way out is barred
And she guards the exit
Wolf has long been mans greatest competitor
And his best friend

She shimmers in the twilight
Both inviting and terrifying
I am drawn by her viciousness
How could one not love something so fearsome

And still she circles closer
Close enough to touch
But as I try she skirts away
Playing or probing?

What good is a wolf without claws or fangs?
Absent, she becomes a rug to be trodden on
I want my wolf dangerous
A fearsome ally or foe

As I stare, her motives are unclear
Is that the gaze of care or blood-lust?
They say not to look wild creatures in the eye
I would not have it any other way

Nobel or pathetic?
Does the wolf know?
Or do wild things dot have such notions?
Solely passion and instinct?

I suppose only time will tell
Whether I'm to be a meal or mate
But the wolf knows
As she circles closer still