When we let go, we leave behind a part of ourselves
yet I do have to wonder if we ever really lose
we certainly sometimes cannot return to the shelves
of who we were, yet perhaps we do sing the blues
In that frame of mind, a good song can bring me a tear
where then I feel my heart, that growing ache of loss
is pounding in my chest in such a manner I can often fear
that end result of wondering when love I would then toss
aside like a feeling I never really took the time to understand.
If I recall the lives I have encountered in five decades of trying
I sometimes forget there is meaning beyond my own demand,
somewhere in the annals of passing nostalgia I am still crying.
There is a constant messsage board in my mind, lays out letters
a sort of visual keyboard, that if I think really hard and long
might shout at me with the reality of who I am, but only utters
soft reminders – there’s never a quiet word of where I belong.
last night a distant friend said goodbye to me without having to speak
I simply knew the time was right to realize a shift in parallel thought.
When while I wanted to know more, I couldn’t ask them to seek
me out again, until perhaps some other time when, I might be sought.
I do know today when I dance alone in my own little forest of solitude
the rhythm speaks gently to the notion that somewhere, sometime I did
exist, and it was then I could realize with the right sort of gracious attitude
I might somehow conceptualize truth in some new epiphany less sordid.
I wonder if when we take that next adventure, we will have a chance
to know that everyone behind us wishes only our soul might advance.