Another Attempt To Fly (poetry)

loneliness is being in a crowded room

where no one meets your eye


sitting happily, not knowing this is what happiness is

not knowing until it departs, and in mourning

that day that was just another day,

imbued with nothing more than a normal sunrise and a few laughs

is now richly detailed with a light we didn’t apply at the time

so easy to miss the past

so easy to stand in the shadow of the monolith of the lives we’ve lived

exclaiming light has departed, when we keep ourselves in the dark

so easy to forget that now: now is its own fresh day

imbued with nothing more than a different sunrise and different laughs

we silently mourn  a past no longer with us

even worse: we mourn a future whose losses we can predict and weep for

even though the pleasure we are weeping for has yet to pass

losing the pleasure of the moment

in that dark chasm of our past and future


that wrong lesson learned from Icarus’

man doomed to fear the power of the sun

when the true enemy is frigid reality

of all of us who never attempted flight

who never knew the slightest hint of the suns warm rays

who never rose above the most close objects

to see there were vistas worth flying towards

things worth being burned over


all these colors

aren’t they the same

weren’t we here before?

have we ever left?

what is it that all this is?

what is it all this is for?


here in a different season of life

the world has changed yet we are the same

the new sunrise conquered by an unknown vitality

how are we to know how to survive

how are we supposed to appreciate the beauty of a new world

when we’ve just discovered our own world

when we’ve just discovered that our own world

the only world we’ve ever know

was temporal

is gone


knowing that death will catch us all

knowing that everything we touch will decay

ourselves only fleeting splashes of light

so be it

so be it

so be it

we must make peace

we attempt to make peace

how can one ever make peace?

we are dying

death is chasing us

she is there

she is right there

life is going to leave us

we will never live again

the sweet garden of our nirvana is having its flowers picked

mother father brother lover

we will never see them again

break reality

chase that ephemeral angel

I will live forever

lie to yourself

escape in a constructed reality

you must be true to your existential song

life will always be here

change the world

death is chasing us

she is breathing, so close

she is there

she is right there


it’s gone!

that dream in my kind slumber

lavishly wrapping me in a disappeared reality

will that conversation ever happen again?

will my heart ever be so rich with emotion?

bring it back

recreate it

let’s live life again

let’s watch our favorite bits

laugh over a highlights reel

how dare it just be once

how could once ever be enough

come back here!

those who are gone, I miss you

those who are here

we must make each moment into a memory

life is disappearing

how is it that everything has already happened?

the promise of potential only slightly appeases

the sorrow of what will never happen again


and here, suddenly, a new emotion

the sadness is not that so much life is already lived

the sadness in not that death and the end is a shadow in the sky

the sadness is that now, we have invested in life

we have taken a blank canvas and began to make it beautiful

we will never make it perfect

that is not the point of life

what we will never do

is have the blank canvas again

every stroke is unrepeatable

and oh, each stroke: so beautiful

but just the once is it made

and the emotion that went into its creation

we can feel its heat from the memory of the canvas

but never again will we know the fire of its creation


those times that were here!

weren’t they just here!

just around the last corner

surely walking distance

I remember the feel of gravel

surely some is even stuck still in my shoe

how can it be that was another life ago

how can it be that I am still so ready

to finish the second half of that conversation

the words ready to spill from my tongue

the image burned in my mind

a lifetime ago feeling more vivid then this moment


a need to feel something

to again be enraptured with the passion of youth

to again confront the wonders of life for the first time

here we are

past the turmoil of becoming who we were meant to be

a completed human being

we have the capability to do anything

without the knowledge of what it is we should do

we fear our weakness, we should take the easy route

self mutilate our spiritual perfection

drag ourselves through the dirt

from the lows we’ve already experienced

we know how to ascend to this lofty perch of right here again

how much easier this, then to gaze at the endless summit

of the high peak we have yet to climb

it just gets steeper going forward

life in the end will kill us

perhaps happiness is more important then perfection

perhaps ignorance is better than shades of grey

perhaps gentle lies are better than the oft promised nirvana of truth

perhaps lies are better than truth,

why break ourselves on the door that will not open?


let’s put all these things together

form all the disparate pieces into an image

you, me, the other: what does it all mean?

what did this vast tangled web produce?

what has a life filled with so many memories created?

we are building towards a crescendo, aren’t we?

is everything not going to become magnificent in the next stanza?

can we not just sit placid here, comfortable that tomorrow will produce the reality of our daydreams?

is the difference between the real life of dreams and our present reality

is it just realizing that today, we must capture our dreams

every tomorrow will be another today

any yesterday not working for tomorrow was wasted

is today going to be a yesterday, or a tomorrow?

oh, the sweet heart screams logic

we know our weakness

we know our weakness

we know our weakness

while still another day goes by

dreaming about a tomorrow

that’s just been pushed one more day farther away from reality

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