I have been so dis...connected lately,
distraught, disembodied;
like a feather in the eye of a hurricane --
nothing to anchor me;
no one to stop me from being blown about
in every direction...

save for the one in which I would choose to go.

And if I write about it...
then another part of someone will die.
But if I don't write about it...
then death will choose on its own:
a senseless, random repercussion.

And we are, after all,
nothing...

but mere whispers in the wind;
here... without substance;
left to our own devices,
seeking solace;
searching for simple solitude;

piercing the unknown
with aching silent screams,
blinded by the fact
that we can never be alone
and yet...

we can never be with the one
for whom, ultimately,
we were meant to be.

Every time she hurts,
a part of me dies...
and there's not a damned thing
I can do about it,
but sit and wait and watch and hope;
and fume with furious anger;
flailing about helplessly,

yet all the while,
letting her know that I am here for her,
as I always have been;
and as I always will be...
bound to something more than perfect truth,
something more
than I ever could have hoped for...

Knowing that she's the dream
that never came true ;
yet the hope that makes me carry on;
the breath that makes me live again...

like I never could have lived...

if I had never met her.

Copyright (c) 2005 Jeff Mason