If love does not know how to give and take without restrictions, it is not love, but a transaction that never fails to lay stress on a plus and a minus.
this time, I really wasn't ready.
my thoughts swarmed over with curious fireflies
blinking discovery and revelation.
I traveled, against inner want.
should I not be with my brethren?
how they worry me so, each their own inner turmoil.
so for what, have I journeyed,
idle time spent in habitual play?
to resume the role as slave to the sloppy?
to subject myself to the degradation
of self-righteous perceptions of reliability, responsibility
to hear, once more, why I cannot belong?
when I have an instinctual feel for silent desperation
from those who
begin, and end, build, and complete me
how is it I have walked away?
beyond all doubt,
I came
of course
for him.
I have no other tasks at hand these next few months,
and I do desire to be immersed in his warmth.
yet I am too far to comfort them.
and other options for replacing modern rituals
are about to explode and drastically alter my scenery...
which I will run, full tilt, to pounce upon.
as much as I would enjoy
extending my pleasant stagnation, here,
my resolve seems this time
to be final.
I wish only to revel in fireflies
(they spawn so rapidly in the atmosphere of home.)
for what is life, but a series of moments.
what are moments, but a series of thoughts.
and thoughts, so driven by emotion.
these emotions, stemming
as most say, from the heart...
and my heart beat echoes elsewhere.
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