The Wanderer's Reverie

And here I find myself suspended neither

where morning left me standing by the gate

of certainty nor where evening waits

with answers I have yet to contemplate

The journal rests unopened in my palm

its virgin pages holding back the flood

of half formed thoughts that surge through weary blood

like phantoms seeking solace seeking balm

What was it that I meant to tell myself

before this walking turned to wondering

The mind a labyrinth of pondering

leads inward to some dark and dusty shelf

where memories lie folded incomplete

fragments of conversations never held

words that time and distance have withheld

from lips that learned too late when hearts should speak

The path ahead grows dim with twilight's breath

while behind me shadows lengthen into night

I carry still this burden soft and slight

the weight of living somewhere before death

suspended in the space between farewell

and hello where silence learns to dwell