Obstacles can be found.
Here. And there.
Or all around?
But, however,
With one's might,
You may cast them
From your sight.

Disconnect yourself.
Unplug.
Recollect a life, before the web.
Inter the net, below.
Raise your head.
Meet their eyes,
and say, "Hello".

That word, juxtapose.
Oozes from your lips,
Like lava flows.
Or melting snows.
Yet usually, it is supposed,
to show contrast in those,
that are apposed!

I write the date, upon the sheet,
Then do the daily round.
I stare at it, in disbelief,
The past cannot be found.

I climb the stairs, and close the valve,
place the lock inside the hasp.
I blink an eye, two decades gone,
Too impossible to grasp.

I drop the needle and find the groove,
a smile upon my face.
The vibe so rich, the pathway back,
So vivid in its trace.

Upon the stool I sit and thrash,
Limbs work in sweet accord.
When it began, three decades? More.
With time I could afford.

In summer sun, in early morn,
a pigeon calls my name.
And stirs in mind a younger me,
with prospects there to claim.

The march of time, the grains of sand,
Relentlessly they fall.
They make the sound of voices past,
I surrender to their call.

She comes to me, with eager tread, desiring my return. 
The old routine, each day evolves, that both of us must learn. 
 
Atop the post she deftly lands and murmurs fond affection.
I marvel at her agile grace, her clean, precise perfection. 
 
She offers me unerring trust, lays curled around my shoulder. 
Each day it grows, the mutual bond, I find her ever bolder. 
 
My hand enveloped in soft, warm fur, content she is secure.
The boundaries of possession lost, does she belong to me or I to her?

The line is crossed,
like a hull breach, too late.
The damage, after impact,
impossible to negate.
All involved, lost. At sea.
You clearly weren't thinking,
not thinking clearly.

Just for a moment you were. Perfect.
A butterfly beat of wings.
The acrobat betwixt trapeze.
And then that exquisite point in time was past.
Precious few saw that moment and knew it for what it was.
You were not one of them.

Just for a moment you were. Vivid.
Pathways of unknowable potential lay ahead,
tenuous as a gossamer thread, whose fate is blown by winds.
Dizzying, myriad opportunities stretched out like plant tendrils;
vying for purchase on decisions of small consequence that you wrestled for eons,
and blinked in an eye the ones that could have made a difference.

Just for a moment you were. Vital.
Oxygen rich blood coursed your veins, engorging muscles,
quickening your heart, lengthening your stride, improving your sight.
You ran fast, aimed high, hit hard and scaled heights.
That zenith was average. Mediocre.
And you failed to grasp even that.
Glancing too late, backward over your shoulder,
as one on a raft might search for grip on the oar that floats by.
Irrevocably gone, hands outstretched.

Just for a moment you loved.
Your hair fell just right, your breath fresh,
you looked, good.
In that nanosecond you glowed.
Eyes met, smiles swapped,
hands held, kisses soft and wet.
Impossibly intense.
Physically red hot.
You had the sense, to see and know
that this was, as good as it got.
And yet it unravelled, regardless,
in spite, despite of,
because,
your efforts, worst and best.

Just for a moment. You lived.