words from the e’er shadowy shades of my soul…
awakened by an unwelcomed heart-race of fear,
at this dawn of this year’s
I lay frozen
facing a flood of images menacing,
o’er my mind’s banks
like ranks of
intruders invading the morn’s peace;
instigators questioning the immediate past
(of this year last);
asking about one thing to which I’ve given long thought
and for which I longed to have,
but had no answer:
Will the things you’ve left undone –
the dreams unrealized,
the expectations unmet,
the calls & conversations untaken,
the encounters unhad –
be ne’er done, be left undone
like discarded leftovers?
Or will they carry over
into the new year?
And, if carried, shipped
(which, in some sense they always must),
what will they be?
Toxic cargo stored in the deepest recesses of the hold of the unconscious;
there to deteriorate, contaminate; an itch unreached, a wound unhealed?
Or left on deck;
there to be inspected,
“Paul,” so spoke that inward, silent voice,
“it is your choice.”
I know, there alway is the seed of chance
what is to be…