Each has potential.
Trying to find the perfect fit.
Check each pocket.
Close each pouch.
Bushing fingers upon the glass.
Lost in whim of pleasure past.
Bell rings as shop door shuts.
A dash together in fall's cold rain.
The wet surrounds as laugh together.
Open and settle inside the car.
Lean forward for quick kiss.
Engine starts with smiling glance
Acknowledging presence
of together's gift.

Pull back,
Pull in,
Sink down,
Drown beneath,
Fear of future,
Evil fog rising,
To cover good.

Two sides
Neither so far.
Split by
Nonsense.
Spent by all.
Evil fog gliding
To cover the masses.

Spirit fled.
No more resources.
For a land so rich
Uncomprehending
Shutting down.
Command economy.
Evil fog lays waste
to profit.

Cynic or optimist
Believing you can push
future to your will.
When young, love potions.
When old, stronger notions.
Instead of pushing one,
you try to push many on your way.
Magic takes advantage of happenstance.
Claim ownership of luck.
Just nod with a knowing smile.
Your doing made it happen.
Probably did.
Fate holds hands with witches.
Which one is the guide.

Fullness bloomed on my tongue.
Filling my person with a newfound purpose.
Never knowing that life could feel so free.
So open, so many possibilities.
Then melted no longer strong.
Needed another taste once again
To see the purpose
To understand my future.
To acknowledge my past.
The taste was needed to open the possibilities.
Never again would life move forward without
the memory of that first taste.
Others would never be the same.
Quest in life remained for the sensation
of the first fullness.

Wake up with songs.
Feel rested from the night.
Time for blessings.
Not alone in my search.
Each day offers habit
executed with purpose.
Some days the purpose
is rewarded.
Granted those bright days.
A holiday, even though mundane.
Bright days are prayers answered.
Scattered in the storm of chaos.
Things go right with little or no push.

Smoke rises with a puff
which waters the eyes.
Tears run and are smoothed
with balled fists.
Charred scent blackens the air.
Grey lifts in the night to
the light of the open window
where you sit just inside.
Where you listen just inside.
Outside only quiet of crackling fire.
The light inside burns bright with no answer.
Smoke alone enters the house.

Jumping forward.
Leaving troubles
In search of gain.
Walking from pain
To  the triumphs.
Life offers both
Like the cycle of the moon.
Pulling the tides of my mood.
I just have to wait for the fullness
of the next.