Life’s Grateful Announcement
It is not always one is touched
by the flare of feelings vast,
and quite unending, and to encapsulate,
that which has bloomed so astonishingly
with a word, or few, is a hope
I cannot have, nor grasp.
Not all things, or people, of great unimaginable beauty,
may be named or written,
and with a breath, so fleeting,
I bid acceptance of the fate
that graces me, and yet I look away,
wishing I could prove myself a writer,
and capture the poetry of my environments.
I am grateful for my life,
even if it is but a moment,
however, much like a cup of coffee,
all must be devoured, and all must eventually conclude.
I do not wish to write of how I die,
but, if you may honor me, I would summarise
how I did live, from occasions of much mature love,
where oxygen was fewer on passion filled nights
of highs greater still than ecstasy, sweat pouring
across my face like the run off from a waterfall,
to the lowest points of my existence,
when the touch of absence was filled
by graceless depressing sorrow, consuming
my every whim and need until even a step forward
felt like an unending sprint.
But am I in the moments that I have listed here,
or are occurrences little more than items
on a shelf to remember me by? Who is this person
that writes this less than fabled tale, and who
shall I be tomorrow, or the day after,
when words of my time upon this Earth
are not presented onto those few readerships
who place an ear to this aching voice of mine,
hoarse from so much writing, and listen
ever so closely to what I dare announce?