Fight

Here and there they are

Slow burn blaze in the rearview,

Those cut-short long days…

If you’re going to fight, then I’m going to fight

But so often the purpose escaped

Deep into an unseen layer of an early arriving sunset

Some days it just entered and hovered in the marine layer

Recessed at night, and no one ever knew

Hamlet was too much in the sun

But for us it was the opposite

But it was the same, too

As your ghost would traverse nighttime journeys

Through home, familiar but not

Horatio would provide the watch

But I could only see him upon the crucifix

His role had changed

You were Lennie and I was George

And then it was all messed up

Because that’s never how it was

Not exactly

The subconscious couldn’t even figure it out…

Compassion, the Friend

Season, the Adversary

Fate, the accuser

Because now all of that was mixed up

All of that talk of purpose and momentum

And 180’s and…prayer?

What was prayer the way so many had bastardized it?

Hope left a long time ago and She was not coming back

Not in this lifetime

Maybe only  when it was time for Trivia

A cruel nighttime game that turned you into some…

Some piteous caricature existing in a finite mind

We are limited

In the snap of a finger

All of this is gone

But there is always a block between the forefinger and thumb

A block in the mind that puts the centimeter of distance

Enough so the energy is felt through the timecloth

But never perceived

Lailah, please appear

Revive the electric me

So seldom perceived

Because that is all I really had

Blessed are those, unlike me, Thomas

Who have thrived upside-down without eyes

Blessed are those, unlike me, Peter

Who never holed oneself up in denial

Because that is all I really had

In this era of the reversal

In this epoch of Oedipus

Blind yourself not to become Tiresias

Blind yourself to the truth

Blind yourself to what this may or may not be

This fragmented world—there is no purpose

None that you can define

You, the accuser, sly as they come

Directing us one way all this time

So distant from the Way

I know your empty prayers now

And promises, too

I know your visage

That comes in dreams of a fatigued mind

I know the opposite of the façade

The Eternal Voice

Whispered on Still Pacific

Kindly, Resolute

Captured in snapshots, sermons, residue

Of a plan set into motion long ago

A salute out to the Eternal Pacific

The image of your granddaughter making you smile

And that was when Love stayed a while

And danced us through the day

And now?

Now I look for you in the mirror

The true image of my own

A code only Genesis might transcribe

But it is written in all of us

So, the ending matters not

In this law of averages

Thus, it is a Fight

To capture the bluest frame

Of beautiful Eyes

So, if the image in the mirror returned

I would too, and more frequently