Already,
Fall's chill licks my spine,
And rather than dread,
my shoulders shiver
with the memory of last year,
at this time,
When the sun in the leaves
Held an indomitable shine.
For then I traipsed
Through brilliant reds,
Brilliant hope,
And brilliant love -
Through soft wool,
Soft song,
And soft heartbreak -
Through quiet frost,
Quiet awe,
And quiet perseverance.
The dwindling days held secrets
Only a fresh heart could hear,
And these sweet mysteries
Were both balm and poison
to my heart and ear.
This year,
my cold frame remembers,
With gut still abuzz,
Eyes still alight,
And chest still aflame,
But it has all been muted
To a soft, pulsing glow.
This cycle has gripped me hard,
And wrung much from my dream-drenched core,
This glow a mere echo of passions before,
As autumn slowly falls once more.

Oh, red Mars,
So close in space and mind,
Your presence stirs a storm here,
As above you fall behind.
Oh, retrograding god,
You wage your wars in me,
My choices all are second-guessed,
Devoid of certainty.
Oh, oxidizing plains,
Hung high in glowing sight,
You're far from the abrasive truths,
That I must face tonight.

Most mornings, my first waking thought is:, ”Life is the best gift anyone has ever received,
surpassed only by consciousness and freedom.”

When this happens, it’s impossible to leave
without first setting a plan to pursue
the sparks that ignite my ephemeral flame.
I want to leap with abandon, 
fill the day with never-befores, 
and share every last thing in my head.

But the long days have ways of reminding me
that I am a player
in the less existential realities of others.
That I chase fruitless romantic dreams.
That I am not truly free.
That if I don’t slow,
I will destroy every structure
that scaffolds my sturdy life.

But is it worth the fall?
I’m afraid that I might truly think it is.
When I feel that shine -
when I have that glimmer in reach -
when I’m intoxicated with the scent and the buzz -
when I begin to glow -
I really do.

But of course, I could be wrong.
And maybe my freedom is like a religion.
It feels real to me,
but all evidence points toward the contrary.

I can pinpoint the day,
The place,
The hour,
And the clothes we were wearing.
You stood too close
As you murmured a joke,
And the scent you wore filled my head
As I laughed and laughed.
I marvel that this subtle quake
Could set everything in motion,
And yet,
I've been adrift ever since.

Like treading water
Like waking from dreams
to find the day hazy and surreal
Like the inability to stem
the begging hunger
that threatens to rend
polite tasks asunder
Is waiting to return
to the mountains
and real life
with you.

There are moments that wake you up
That knock you squarely
from what once passed as reality
into a new frame of being.

These are the moments,
When the Milky Way
snaps into perfect clarity,
When a breeze off a creek
whispers the cyclical secrets of its past,
When perfect music or perfect silence
replaces the voices in your ears,
When your hand is held with care
and you're electrically grounded,
When you're suddenly in existential peace
with all of your fears.

These are momentary lapses in the definite -
Brief flashes of eternal significance
in the obvious meaninglessness of life.
Moments that transcend the inevitability of death.
A reason for existing in a reasonless existence.

They're such shiny chemicals:
Dopamine, Norepinephrine, Phenylethylamine.
Life shimmers,
and each day is painted with purpose
When dosed with such potency.

I would like to believe that love,
The long-lasting kind,
The one you're supposed to want,
The one that settles you,
Where you grow old and spend Wednesday evenings answering emails and rewatching some old baking show in ***** sweats
Is enough to keep life interesting.
But chemistry doesn't always work that way.

My path might dictate some other measure of wholeness,
And more than one type of love,
And more than a couched lookalike storybook ending.
My path may require
Risk, Adventure, Longing,
Questioning, Exploration, Pain,
Brilliant platonic wildfires,
Intellectual dalliances,
And unrequited amorosity.
In short, my path may require some trailblazing.

But this precious neural spark
In my body
That keeps me in love with love
Is mine to keep
For as long as it continues to shine.