I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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Surprise Of You

In recurring chills of meditation,
This manuscript of age reads incomplete.
Distractions of light harmonising dark,
Melancholy truths move on footsteps fleet.
Effecting my dawn in waking motion,
From which no dream survives wholly intact.
Methods of recall but aid and abet
Crimes of confusion; their glory detract.
Entering existence, prepared to fall;
Satisfied to wander desolate space.
With a setting sun I seek horizon
From failure gained of affections misplaced.
Living a lie, doubting of tomorrow;
Untouched by the kindness of yesterday.
Contemptuous wonder judging intent;
Bitten by silence, no words left to say.
Chance meeting in verse, catalyst of hope,
Touched by a stranger, urgent yet unforced.
Without expectation a need fulfilled;
Freedom and worry finally divorced.
Unexplained silence no longer a sin.
Comfort of knowing separates the days
Of a cold, aging past controlled by fear,
From rebirth, mastering all I survey.
Threaded together through years contented,
Shrouds of darkness: unanswered, ancient, tossed,
In forgotten rivers of tears flowing
To waters of us; on their currents lost.
Concealed laughter freed from vacant-eye jail.
Released from their bondage, ascending through
Volumes of time on wings of acceptance -
Heralding day in surprises of you.