The urge to write of this moment
is as neutral as ever.
If to save a glimpse might occur,
so too it is in motion.
Ache, as futility, as strife,
is my truth.
I feel for all, and though not alone,
trapped.
My soul cannot be quenched
whilst,
strife proves futile, thus aching.
I wish for connection through celebration,
yes!
If I prove a challenge to coax,
pardon my distance, I am far away,
and considering,
and praying
of a transcendence of pains
in harmony.
I fear to be open, for a futility is apparent.
Yet, that I might burst open, I exhale.
I twitch, some times, as though bracing the structure
of a dam in a storm.
I have thanks, as well, be assured.
Therein lies my hope for harmonization.
We are equals in the partnership of time.
I am, we are, why else but love?
