That summer glow is on the horizon
and in the humid night air
I'm here trying
to learn to speak, not to spit
verses
but to utter truths. Trying to
find my voice without losing myself.
So here's what went down between me and
myself as we looked upon the town.

I spoke into the glimmer of its lights
and told it my deepest fears
and most tenuous hopes
and I let my feelings
flow forth as my voice
made quiet my mind.
I uttered a few words as
if they might make a man
realise who I am, and I had a moment
or two before I asked myself what'd become of my time.
I saw myself sitting in a room, all day
for many months, years,
A lifetime,

And thought to myself what a waste
and wished my voice was clear, confident, lucid
and longed for the authenticity and courage I'd stifled
and wanted my mind to be together, smooth, whole
and begged for the strength to make it through the months
and remembered those aimless summers past, lethargy
and apathy with a sentiment that almost bordered on fondness
and wondered at that trick: how wrong it is
to be wistful when memory is so selective.
Better to look to the future
with sincere notions of adventure
and convictions on how to regain one's
soul;