Felt the luck of self-discovery and rejoiced only to find that I was wrong.
I’ve struck gold in a relationship and saw how easily spent the treasure.
Went broke like my heart, it became the start of a man without measure.
I’ve been picking flowers from the air although nothing is there;it’s merely a dream I see, no form of reality, just reverie.
Like a map without north, like a self-created myth;
a lie lying inside a truth, a mask trying to conceal it.
I want to make faces in a crowd, show who’s in control of my character;jump on a soapbox and say all the things the world never says.
I want to turn myself into a statue of permanent happiness; a fulfillment,
with a countenance of contentment; forever this way, under the sun.
I want to touch my face and love its resident,not run from myself, not wear shadows like a coat.
I want to throw a line to the night, hook a star in life’s honor,
reel in a purpose and let it guide me home.
From the book Kairos (print version only)