A Poem

Even in the darkest hour

Staring down the jaws of death

I can feel your sacred power

Drawing toward my final breath

In the throes of static cling 

Attraction at a level saved

For adolescent midnight flings

Words we thought we’d never brave

Upon vibrating heartstrings strummed 

Stories told in present tense

The Memories in songs we’ve hummed

Recounted out of self defense

They tell us who we wish we were

Our aspirations laying bare

And dreams admonished in a blur 

Reality, more self aware

I wouldn’t say that in this place

The things I wish I hadn’t done

Would wear the wrinkles on my face

As if a battle had been won

I know, I know, the path I chose

Would play itself eventually

But here, perhaps, I feel exposed

In all, the man I tried to be.

A legacy of stillness, yes,

The two who bore a single pen,

Our history is nothing less 

Than how a story happens when 

Commitment, love, and happiness

Are to be earned through time apart

A future certain, no one guessed

That with the pen we shared a heart.

A light above, a glimpse below

With eyes as wide as open sky 

Dilation none could ever know

But everyone is certain why.

A smaller breath to see beyond

The present tense he lives within 

Endings tend to correspond

With the way that they begin.