Seizures, Failures, and Faithures
by Odin Roark

Finding the night escape,
he walked quickly for many years.
the familiar seizures reaching out to shake him.

He looked up into the night and imagined she waited,
not yet born, waiting to emerge and light up his darkness.
He remembered too the failures of the night,
failures that still spoke in his sleep.
There too was the bright light from ancient synaptic current,
surging the contained capsule of heart and mind that powered the faithures of young,
the many failures dotting his adulthood.

Sitting atop the grating,
the subways beneath, rumbling through the tunnels,
carrying other seizures and failures,
he recalled how for years he looked up into the suspended dark air of the night,
watched and listened to the city’s breath of vital spirits not yet awake,
suspended by the updraft of the city’s seizures, failures,
and he clung to his faithure.

Suddenly, the tapestry of time stopped and above... somewhere among the lights of the city’s night,
he heard the voice of light, the sound of the air’s rush, the moment of her birth,
the prelude to the faithure that might remain just another failure.

But years passed through the night,
nights that became cold at times,
while other times heavy with hot clinging tears of summer’s weeping gray shadows of sunlight,
but always with nights unwilling to fade to black.. real black.

Then…

The day, not unlike any other day, promised evening would come.
and all the lights would cry out to be heard,
and the wind would wink its wily way and he...
he would wait for yet another dawn to recall his faithure that that someone would find him.

And after this night the dawn did come and he knew she was somewhere waitng.
The seizure was sudden and the plane he would take would place him in the city of shoebox roofs, trees of frazzled tentacles, their trunks of blooming blade sharp petals deluding the eyes that saw them as blooming fronds of happiness.

After years of faithures, faithures corrupted by life’s pink, purple and chartreuse,
he finally saw her. She came just as he had imagined. She emerged from the darkness of night with movements like that of the air that suspended the anima of the tall cities,
graceful, purposeful, destined.

Time has passed. They find new growth together. Faithures have taken them and the extension of their faithures to many moments of city memories, making the energy more powerful now, the lights brighter, the air gusts suspending spirits higher.

Her dainty hand grips his, trusting him with faithures now anew.

Love is that moment arriving,
when collective transformation takes place,