Lune, I See

Oh, saturated breath,

nearly not gas, laden and stressed,

be evaporated! Death,

granted to worry

and buried between blurry lines.

Expression is a merciful

and patient deity.

She knows her audience,

to make room for spontaneity,

and knows that, soon, the way to me

would have been crumbled shut.

The walls of the rut

about to cave in

on this impudent mut,

always misbehaving.

He'll never know the reason

she strayed to save him,

but he'll wonder at it

every single time he exhales.

The cloud of his confusion pales

the subjects of his glazed, distracted gaze,

it veils his view of the lights in the skyline,

little lanterns in the maze.

That place, looking distant through the smoke,

feels only just a phase.

Muffled by miles, the hustle and bustle

prompts the twitch of a tired muscle —

a brief return to the ancient craze,

and a little, lazy lifetime plays

out in a synaptic circus.

But the "crowd," is unamazed.

The conference of one

just blinks away the meager daze

as that white, beleaguered haze

dissipates into night air.

It was an endless string of Mondays —

a fight here, a fight there...

we have our choice of battleground

and that, at least, is fair.

But it's the darker hours,

unflitered and dour,

which stir his deepest cares.

And sure enough,

by ivory glow and not the golden stare,

with vision cleared and mind uncuffed,

his heart is caught not unawares.

Willingly, with grit, he bears

commitment, love

and whatever else scares

him underneath the daylight's dares.

A garish challenge grips and tears,

but reveals behind the tatters

a clean perspective, understanding,

to see what really matters.