I’d like to step away from
Order, though I haven’t in
So long. Ever since these walls
Changed their colors, the newness
Has kept me in, and I am
Here. The urge to disappear.
Comfy dim and keeping in
The old burnout from last year.
How that memory persists
Now, the one you held so dear.
Chaos calls. Its high tide voice
Remembers, breathes in rhythm
To the moon’s pull. It is here.
I’d like to be part of the
Chaos, but from it, distinct
And true. A lamp-post on a
Dark street, soft words on concrete.
Answering is not the same
As being, but another
Sunset always awaits a
Few inches west. It is there.
It is there that choice exists.
But emptiness is required
To make it. It is there, where
Clouds fly to, right before they
Dissipate or rise or rain,
Where light slows down just enough
For its silent sound to catch
Up. Down to the core of the
Earth, and a little farther,
To the point where one begins
To ascend again. It is
There I hope only to be.