I thought as I held my white balloons, I had someone to love.
that I could heal, breathe, live
but the winds sweep and change plans,
the chessboard makes an ass of us all.
I realized I never had to walk alone,
but I thought i needed someone to walk with me.
I realized self sacrifice was already done
in the name of true piety.
I thought it would hurt when I made
the wind blows the cigarette smoke away from my face,
at a perplexed point
we let go of our lead sails,
and paper anchors,
a modest mouse once told me,
we all float on okay.
And denial was my anchor,
but like an auger,
it sifted through.
I pulled all the shit up from my rock bottom,
I felt the wind in my sails,
and I let go.
the journey doesn’t end, at the horizon,
it doesn’t die at twilight,
it is John Keats and Stephen crane,
we are all in the boat,
and loneliness in jack londons Alaska,
it doesn’t take abandonment of the social contract,
helpless and human.
On the contrary
I choose to not let a small hole,
define my destiny.