For 15, 23

Today,

Two years ago

To this day,

I drove away

For good

has never sounded

So Appropriate

Into fate

As it were, 

As it would be

Left behind

Behind me

Now,

I drive on paved paths

In the dark

Streets

only silver linings

Guide 

The way.

Photo by Author Kelly Sikkema, Unsplash title 'As far as you can see' Dated 13 January 2017, Location: Fenton, United States

F8

Theoretically

if someone showed me

the Future

and said This or That

We both know we'd go with

less pain

We go on

without knowing which is which

The will 

yours-

the will see-after

which was worse.

This way

we suffer the same fate. 

Painting by Pietro della Vecchia, 'Fortune teller reading the palm of a soldier c. 1626-1678 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Draw out

It must have been
one of those crossroads
that Dante found too dark
to penetrate
and I find myself
sinking
to the depths
of Tarot,
whereby a spark may be
cast,
only one strike,
like sipping one toe into the
Inferno
and you know
I drew;
The Emporer, The Hermit, The Lovers,
The Devil
and Strength.

There is something
strait-forward about
a cross, a sword, empty cups,
perhaps
the pathway, and a Virgil,
that may say
directions,
like selections
when lain, like steps
a hand
is dealt and there lies
choice,
namely,
to forget
The Fool.



Artwork by Dante Gabriel Rossetti [Public domain].

Intro-version

Things fall into place and we can safely say
gravity had a heavy hand,
although it is a weak force and spineless excuse
for why we stand up-
right

despite the pressure this places directly on
our crowns,
fashioned from sand and stone,
the weight resists the wait
reeling into terminal velocity
blurs and gives
in, collapses into itself,

and condensing, reducing what is necessary
by its lowest denomination

We still build and rebuild as if we knew it would
all work out this way,
and not that way we tried
to change the inevitable, like laws, universal
and blind,
like this dark energy displaced
with good will

things were determined
by the absence of things
accidentally
heavier than we could imagine.


Painting by Jules Charles Aviat (1844-1931) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

20/20 Solution

Coincidence is a convenient
excuse in lieu
of exactitude, like revenge,
directed.
Which explains the
all too common
aversion to poetry,
making many believe
in God,
or a guiding hand
like muse and magic,
where attributions are
misplaced in
disappearing ink and through alchemy.

Ultimately, it seems we see
what we want
based on capacity, like neck rotation,
like breath and lung,
blinking and humidity,
following instructions, under certain conditions
these operate smoothly
without our requisite participation-

Yet when an event occurs
unfathomable and unforeseen,
scaring one's vision deep into the optic
down to the spinal column,
making it more important
to look away,
than move
on
without directions
that is when we say
we knew it, we caused it, we planned it,
it was meant
for the best.


Painting by Aleksander Grodzicki [Public domain] 1893, via Wikimedia Commons. 

I come bearing water

I need not see to believe-
this presence of Ganymede.
We were led to learn,
our blue planet Earth-
was alone soaking in saltwater.

But you showed yourself-
Ganymede.

I rose early too, like those stargazers,
eager to see what they wanted us to believe
was a Blood Moon-
but she was just blushing,
rosy from her fullness.

Like Eos at Dawn,
there you were again,
in the company of dead poets,
attending the school of contemplation.

Rising first, in rings around dreams,
taking lullaby swings, at gravity-
Who thinks nobody is looking-
thirsting for Truth.

Fixing the future, diving into their divinity,
stuck swimming in the stars;
unable to reconcile, to beguile or even manage
a simple smile to reconcile but choose denial,
Ganymede.

Composed 5/21/15.

Image By NASA/JPL (http://photojournal.jpl.nasa.gov/catalog/PIA02278) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Ganymede from Voyager 1, March 1979.

Skipping Serendipity

Some glide along a smooth path

floating along without mirrors or water

under the masted will of breezy air

while Destiny draws closer

Some notice themselves in shadows

outlining the mark of forward and aft

while Destiny draws closer

starboard, a siren caught your name

Some feel their own gravity pulling

while Destiny draws closer

plunging its authoritative weight

swayed by promising warm fronts

While destiny draws closer

taken in trickles and torrents still

Some remain lost at sea, adrift

serendipity filling the mast.

Image by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917)  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.