PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Imagine, if you will, the absurdity of life's various courses,

for us to find ourselves on a trajectory such as this:

separated by stretches of time and distance,

yet easily accessible via the technology within our hands,

we pass the evenings engaging in playful conversation;

our darkly comedic ramblings weaving ties between us,

the laughter echoing upon the air well into the night.

We came face to face, joined in soothing embrace--

the sensation of your touch gave me a start,

my skin seemingly alight with a humming current,

the innate electricity acting as the impetus to set my heart properly beating again;

reanimated, a reminder of my humanity and capacity.

But, oh God, why?

Why of all times now, on the heels of the darkest days I'd ever known,

for what soul would dare be trapped in the mire of another's grief?

This roiling tar pit of apathetic abandon?

And yet, it truly is darkest before the dawn,

as soon thereafter did the first rays begin to break through the clouded skies,

heralded by softened voices whispering sweet lullabies to shrouded hearts,

igniting the wicks needed to illuminate the catacombs and make my escape.

As I reentered the sunlight, I did so at a sprint,

pulled by an alluring siren's song of beautiful melodies and tender words;

the universal language gives life to that which even my extensive lexicon could not.

It seems so trivial even now,

attempting to create art with such an inferior medium as language,

when linguistics can only paint the outlines of these feelings with any clarity.

Constraints be damned, words aren't everything,

as there are a plethora of actions that will give them deeper meaning,

expanding upon their definitions and giving them proper life...

...life, one worth living, despite how dulled the colors may have become,

but do not the flora of the world wither in the grim winters,

only to rejuvenate with elegant vibrance come spring?

You captured the truth so succinctly,

declaring that life had been lived so wrong for so long;

my own experience dictates my reality as such for more years than I care to admit.

However, here and now, within your loving embrace,

my chest warmed by the arms tenderly enveloping me,

I see now what purpose all those formerly despised trials and tribulations served--

all the growth that came forth from it all,

derived from newly-accessible spirit that lay dormant within,

such was necessary to grant me the tools used in creating this new foundation upon which I lie,

ensuring the integrity of anything I choose to build atop it.

In my journey, I had to learn, to fully concede,

that God is doing for me what I can not do for myself;

all the narrow misses of the shots Death took at me hint at a purpose,

but of what magnitude, what influence, I know not.

It had been that frigid hands once held me in their grasp,

dragging me through a youth enveloped in perpetual winter,

teasing an escape only to tighten the shackles and sending me stumbling on into the unknown,

blinded by the snowsquall and shivering within what had been my ethereal prison.

Yet, each new dawn, every fresh moment of this sublime corporality here,

all of it brings forth glimmers of hope for what comes next;

as we walk forward, hand in hand,

giggling away into a dream of Spring.