The path through life
is rarely paved

For some, it may be,
straightforward or winding,
but clear to see

For others, less clear,
like stalking nature trails,
following tracks

For others still,
horizons stretched both ways,
fate theirs to choose

For me, I feel,
woods set with heavy fog,
yet open, still

However it looks,
we follow on our paths,
mostly forward

Sometimes they cross,
leading us toward each other,
or away again

The path through life
eventually ends

Counted in miles,
in years or in crossings,
in hills climbed

But in counting,
careful not to forget
to enjoy the walk

I've spent
a lot of time
looking down

So much so
that I'd forgotten
how big the sky
really was

But I've been
looking up again
and I've seen
wonders

A great blue sea
hanging weightless
above my head

Clouds passing along
in migration
or filling up the sky
to roar

Stars dotting the night
like dewdrops in the morning
And pitch black voids
that threaten to swallow you whole

All these sights above me
serve to humble me
To remind me the world is big
and to remind me I am small

But when I see them
I see magic
in the flesh

Because the sky's
so beautiful
when I'm looking
with you

when i go
to picture myself
in my head,

not what i look like
but who i am,

and when i go
to compare that
to the images of my past,

im confronted
by just how much
ive changed.

i used to see myself
as a shy boy,

small,
unimposing,
supporting cast
to the world around.

i rode
in the wake
of my friends
and my family,

kept above the waves
by nothing but
momentum.

but now,
when i look
at who i am
today,

things are different.

im not the same
shy boy i was before.

im more confident
than ive ever been,

in part because
ive come to see
that 'boy' isnt who i am
at all.

i see a knight
in well worn armor,

beautiful,
tall,
starring role
in a story all my own.

i no longer
need momentum
to stay above the waves.

no longer
do i ride the wake
of those around me.

i drive
my own boat
my own way
equal to those beside me.

when i go
to picture
who i was before,

i see not
a scrapbook,
full of memories
to cling to.

i see
a field,
burned flat,
ready for new seeds

to take root.

You,
my moonlight,
are dear
and precious
to me.

You,
my love,
shine bright
like the stars
to see.

You,
my friend,
make me
so happy
to be.

i am still awake
as i have been this late
for nearly a month
thoughts swarm in my head
like flies on a carcass

i think about the ex that i hate
her lips as sweet
as her heart was vile
i think about the abuse
the belittlement, the taunts

i think about the last time i went on a date
how long ago it was
how much fun i had
how much i wish i could change
how much i wish i could go back to

i think about love
about ***, and romance
how im not sure i can tell
what love actual is, or if I've ever really felt it

i think about myself
how im scared of coming out
how i sometimes wish i could go back and forget
how every time i get better
i get sad about something different

I dream of knighthood.

A life where my armor is made of steel,
instead of coping mechanisms.

Where my greatest challenge is a dragon,
instead of getting out of bed.

Where I save the lives of those I love,
instead of feeling my own life pass by.

When I dream,
I dream of glory.

When I wake,
I wake up sad.

I see the email in my inbox
past the monotony of checking every box "read"
for the first time in nearly six years.

A poem
selected and sent
on the day.
The way mine was
so many years ago.

I login
just to look.
To gaze upon a world
I had left
lifetimes ago.

I see the scattered pieces
of a distant past.
My past.
Laid nearly bare,
but for a dusting of memories,
exactly as I had left them.

I see the boy I was.
Young.
A teenager.
In high school.

He seems so different.
He's sad, and he doesn't understand why.
Not the way I do.
Not the way he will.

He doesn't know what kind of man he'll be.
What kind of man he wants to be.
He doesn't know yet that we won't be a man.
What we'll be instead is still in the air,
as unsure of my gender now
as he was of his hurt.

As much as I wish it were so,
I can't show him what's waiting for him.
I can't correct his course.
Instead I'll make a quiet return
so that maybe he can correct mine.

For him, earlier

I'll be

Me, Later