Sometimes circumstances make it necessary to go to higher ground...
It could have been the business of my day.
It could be that something got in the way.
It could be I just needed a break, but writing isn't something I try to escape.
The story I heard made me doubt:
who I was, what I was saying and my never ending need to shout.
In daily bursts of rhythm and prose.
Plus streams of consciousness that would curl Dixinson's toes.
What was I speaking for?
Who really hears?
I've got notebooks full of scribbling over many a year.
The pages speak of days long done.
Of battles fought and victories won.
How did this chasm grow so vast?
Was there an earthquake shuddering while my eyes were fixed on
composition lined pages flipping past?
Where did this impasse begin to grow?
While I was sharing with you my life, my dreams, my soul?
There's been lots of stopping and starting it seems,
on the whims of fuss and flurry that you try to redeem.
Redeem for something that is right and just,
only to find it was a facade it was.
You seek for what you were missing and search for still -
Is it a feeling or purpose that nothing will fill?
All this worry over me and you, with no words passing between us two.
Someone pulled the plug on the drain of our lives,
without knowing or understanding the cause of this great divide.
Water divided and I took the path to high ground,
only to turn and see waves crashing.
No connection to be found.
No more stopping on your behalf.
No more imposed silence to provide you a path.
No more mis-thinking that you are a friend.
No more wasted waiting.
This is your end.
Copyright T.L. Eastman 2008
Image of Stormy Sea from www.byzantines.net
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