Wandering Years

Everybody got dem...those times of darkness where destiny appears lethargic, hope so translucent that yesterday's fears glare straight through it into your soul... faith seems like magic = unfounded at best, illusory and cruel....love is of the same soundbiting frequency as jocularity and mistrust. Wandering years....every step stumbles, fumbles light years deep, steeped in the ignorant, faint rumbles of the dreams you once nurtured. Dreams, visions, delusions of grandeur > classed in one monolithic dead-ended category. Once bit twice shy...these times seem to teach the heart to be hard and cold as elbows, depressingly realist, to shun hope as it aspires to crushing despair. Why go there when all it causes is the pain of street dreams deferred?

Instead my soul plays in a place where sunshine dwells below my highest ambition and the moon's gravitation pull is nothing to the centripetal force of my imagination. I recklessly defy the notions of motions denied and dispersed. My thoughts line corridors where the open door cannot be shut and the closed one cannot be forced. Inclined future, downward mobility aspirations placing me at the feet of climax. Inspired weight dragging me into the complexities of the entangled mess of success > unpredictable, insanely choreographed, overwhelmingly beautiful. A place where symmetry bears no likeness and aesthetics are defined by the existence of a subject which defies disparaging bracketization.....

These wandering years will learn to conform to the amorphous power of faith, hope and love.