i do suppose i never gave much thought to this all;
it seemed ever trivial that i should run
to a page with a pen and
let my scars dry out there.

it never seemed like
it could resolve anything;
and
in my mind,
i force myself to believe it hasn't.
all it's done is
carried me
from one point
to the next
with maybe a few breaths of air
reminding me that there was still sunshine.

walking home tonight,
i was gazing upward
(as i find myself doing more constantly)
and i noticed a particularly
bright patch of
dark clouds;

the moon was shining behind them.

it never struck me that sym-
bo-
lism
was ever relavant in reality;

i viewed it only as a measure of poetic justice.

yet i tonight have noticed
everything
as if it were my swansong;
it seems that death brings
out the most in life.
sensing the end,
everything
reminds you
of all
that has passed you by.

feeling the chill of a mid september night
creates a breath entirely not your own;
i could feel it.

i started running.
running to
the
end
of some tunnel i'd never been down before.

something clicked tonight
that showed life in all it's
melancholy
grandeur.

i was shown that
life does not need to be happy.

this is what i've learned.
and happiness is not the
greatest
of all
emotions.
life is
to be taken in,
to be observed-
to note
all the other versions
and viewpoints of life
the world comes to represent.

and just then, i'm smiling. that is to say, right now.

09/13/2003

Author's Note: very rough. originally one long train of thought- but not really poetiv at all. hence the whole akwardness to it. i'll rework this a little later when i'm not so emotionally attached to it.

Posted on 09/14/2003
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