Always that last moment,
when just before the landslide,
our footing grabs hold with a sort of, almost
what if, reality.
Soft is the response,
all of the unknown tragedy
will be left behind,
swept underneath the miles of concrete
laid along the way,
a surface texture,
that when imagined in a different time,
contains the soul of our reality,
that piece of almost,
that notion that suggests despair
isn’t always a necessary option,
well there is that second guessing target of
the piece of our world,
always waiting to suggest,
we weren’t wrong,
just way to quick to ask forgiveness.
Not what I mean really,
I know forgiveness,
yet, the territorial nature of my fears,
often impede my ability
to truly understand why.
I can never underestimate the power
of knowing why,
before I forget the reasons …
I still imagine you nearby with passionate eyes!