the lost man chronicles
the daily chronicle
the swell of (human) nature
i can see me
in all the whims of nature,
as well as in the aching lament
of the swell and imposition
the sun strokes and shines
and i divine, almost always,
“this will be a great day.”
when it doesn’t, and the nebulae
whistle greyly, i often find myself
gaily humming along, knowing
there is a song of beauty and wonder
even in the rough sibilance of chaos.
thunder bolts and i smile
reading, writing, gazing upon
the glistening glare of street lights,
listening to the serene patter at the sill.
happy, i fill the pages, tuck the sheets in tighter,
and gladly stow away from the nocturnal
i lie upon grass
and gaze into the eternal blue
knowing you might still love me—
wherever you ultimately
decide to go.
i still sigh, and try try try
not to pale in the wake of your absence—
it is harder than you
may never know.
in the beginning .00 daily archives