Archive
04/09/09 - (1)
Being Lost
When you left, yesterday morning, You had every intention of coming home, by nightfall. But now, you have no idea how lost you are.
To say that you're lost in space Would be as questionable as saying you're lost in time; In truth, you're lost in name, identity, mind.
As for the "now," You can't fathom how it relates you to a location Or if, indeed, now is a prefix to something more foreboding.
All you know, if knowing is at all knowable, Is that home seems to have disappeared And that being lost is a blind sojourn in a wilderness abyss
Or a stay in a dream with no paths leading back to sleep, Sleep to consciousness, waking to reassuring yawn Announcing your return from that vast nowhere, everywhere,
Or a visit with a death that hasn't yet happened, Despite its shadowy glow, hovering just above and below The only home you've ever really known.
04/09/09 - (1)
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