You cling to meaning like that stone-paved path,
when cherry blossoms fall across the yard,
to sounds of wings gliding through thickened mist
on days that feel ordained to break apart,
returning to the depths that call, in passion, to erase
a solitude that carries notwithstanding all those voices,
which whisper come-alongs and not come-backs
for lives arising in the midst of full surrender to the choices
that bound you to a stillness grounded not in present but in thought,
too bold to soften through the pain, so effortlessly blinding your humaneness,
not to a past but to a future equidistant, in a moment flawed,
from everything that could or might remind you of the path, nevertheless –
so distant.
–
(inspired by the sounds of ‘Return 2’, by Max Richter)
Initially published by Spillwords Press
–