What is the acceptable amount of time-
For Uncertainty?
Hopelessness?
Mourning?
When the weight of reality seems all a bit too grand to manage?
The simplest act alotted for enough wistful belief
That starting over is even possible.
A collective weight lies across the undulations of land,
That only a small sliver seems need not apply.
For what ever reason,
Age,
Bad decisions,
Exhaustion,
Much has crossed the threshold,
Much has become all, just a bit too much...much.
For those with built in hard work
Buoyed by endurance
Harnessing inertia,
Attempt to mask an ache of
Prim disdain
Manage airs of acceptance,
and insular understanding
For the affected masses.
How do we once again,
Pick up,
Change direction,
Start over,
Alter course?
With the rule book written,
Chock full of choices
In another language.
Words spelling out a young mans game....
In the jaws of a misdirect,
An opportunity long past presented,
To jump at a chance for sprite sized surprise.
And for the briefest of moments,
A connection,
To home.
Sparks disrupt the far away flitted dream,
Bound for a reality,
That is not universal.
Hard work
Non transferable.
A lost hope,
A worn path,
Thinning seat,
Without tools to start over.
The limp hurts more,
As the swelling continues,
As an unsettling gurgle,
With familiar churn
Inside the belly,
The one that neither booze, nor food, nor sleep can cure,
The blanket of exhaustion that lies atop the body,
Clogged stops the inward seeping gullies,
Failing to kickstart the turnkey jump necessary
For the roller skate your caught driving,
Blinker on to charge lanes
Hoping for forward progress.
Stuck. Year three? Year one, where does the starting over even begin,
Simply losing focus.
Jumping cool laid tracks newly assembled
Steering acceptance-
Surrendering the warmest embrace
Kind and loving of the closest family,
Closing days into routine continued
Back on the treadmill,
As others zoomed far away back home.
Reality sets in,
Crashing down from a great hysterical mirage.
Once again slated,
Alone, quiet, wandering
Stick in hand searching,
The trace well of mere sips thirsty for strength
In order to start fresh all over.
Within, as it is with you,
Without-
Instead, immersed now in the cool breeze of a lighter sunshine,
Exhaustion sets in,
Painting hope for the sunset-
In again the new day Dawning.
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