finding the strength

when we troop back
and sit you down over a cup of coffee(without suger)
you'll never understand what
we meant
when we said
you don't know what you missed
when you missed the sunrise.

it began first with a pink light stretching from the horizon toward the moon drawing the tides behind us.. pushing back what was left of the night. then it sank into a strange lassitude without accent, and a rainbow that no-one else could see..

first steps into the dirty sand are more than the characters and personalities of every one, and soon the tiny swells and swash froze into place. we being to walk.

who spread out and sweep the beach for thoughts and ideas hiding behind the veils of the practical, functional minds that we put on after waking up every morning, seizing the opportunity given by the fleeing night unslept. what's there?

an odd glow returns. writing in the sand? "lonely? is that all? in this world we touch other people only briefly, then we're alone again." now she can't decide whether to be calm or to move, to glow or to simmer.

who am i and who are you? walking down the beach in thought, my favourite way to spend time with loved ones, the greatest cliche of all.

what silent, unheard sound or voice summons us back to our lives with such unnatural joy and willingness, or what is the purpose of our actions? what lies in your eyes, when i see them just so? or do they lie? you think you're gonna break up, then she says she wants to make up

trying to make a picture of what's left, before it goes away as you know it already is, trying to make a scene in the movie of your life that you'll remember a few moments longer that all the other unsuccessful tries. there's no poetry left in this way of living.

leaving already, turn back and you see the sun is only beginning to rise, and we're off to our lives. we go back and sit you down over a cuppa coffee, a pot of tea, and tell you, you'll never understand what you missed when you missed the sunrise, you missed the lives of people i saw before my eyes. but we'll never realize
we never really saw it ourselves.

photos and blah here, to avoid clogging the chorale blog, and so that i have a little literary freedom, lol. photography really is all that.. but i'll never afford the equipment, haha. a little metal case.
anyway, it's over now, and there's the tinge of that feeling from after great performances and art that makes me want to tear worlds to shreds in regret, but only that tinge. we already know what lies before us. let's just do it..

so many things seem decided already, by some unconscious phantom, freak of humanity writing the scripts of our combined lives. i could almost ready myself to reach out beyond regret.

let the play begin.
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10:47 pm