In black and white across the screen
The sun, peeks over the mountainside
The bright white orb shines through the black leaves
The sky in light gray
And it's the dawn of a new day
One picture snapped on a whim
And hope is caught on the horizon
The camera blinks in time with perfection
Emotion caught on a breeze
A view into the soul of the man behind the moment
There is peace in this place
A picture, a snapshot of insight
An infusion of peace
And the smile on the face of a stranger looking at a screen

I watch and  stand
and let a passing
cloud
hit by moonlight
make a rimmed
spectacle
of a distant want.

I shift my weight
and blink;
recalling wordless
feelings before
I put into words
those useless
aphorisms.

It's the words,
with their wanton
un-mouthed ache,
that bleat silently
against the ear,
tangling those
as yet un-marked
and un-surveyed
desires,
whose syntax'
obliterating duster
transforms an
ancient passion
into a grammatical
smudge.

I blink again
and return
to my frosted gate.
Pausing, I catch
a reflection
of the nearly moon
breaking free from
the hiding clouds-
and for an instant
my feelings,
unwritten,
unspoken,
return.

I do not write about the joys of life
Or the calm and gentle quiet of nature.
There is too much faked joy in the world.

I do not write about love and loss.
I dare not tug at the fragile threads
That bind old wounds in rememberance.

I do not write about worldly truths
And the fallacies that we are often told.
I have forgotten them ― outgrown.

I do not write about my thoughts
For fear that I cannot find the words to fit
And that my mind will soon consume me.

I do not write ― I bleed.