Standing on the edge


The virtuoso hit the note

as the champagne struck the boat

just like when everything was fine.

When there wasn't this twisting maelstrom

in this churning mind of mine.


I never did like autumn, 

when all seems to be dying,

your bones get chilled at night

and the birds don't feel like flying.

So with headphones cranked to eardrum-breaking

I try to touch my younger self 

stored in memories that leave me shaking,

to convince myself he would be proud of me.


There are no afternoon thunderstorms here,

I remember I used to love them,

they inspired and excited me back where

I used to sit by the window and watch them.

There was no ocean back there,

I love it now, but I can barely stand

to be near it, on the skin-tearing 

dessert-empty sand.


I used to seek for answers,

I also used to think I had them all,

the paradox wasn't entirely lost on me

but still I stood tall.

Now I just see the questions,

I don't even know if there are answers to find,

just certain uncertain certainties

my spirit to bind.


Between the whole of the moon

and the hole of a mooning,

lay the promise of understanding soon,

and the beauty of lovers spooning.

Darkness and light and

the edge in between,

the empirically proven and 

the ever unseen.


On one side the light,

me in the middle,

on the other the night.

I wonder which way I'm facing ?

I don't want to step to either side.

Into the light, or out of the dark,

I'm addicted to anticipating.