Breathless

Black lines on brickfront. Necessity pinioning me to this place of stone and steel. I live and breathe, yet I am breathless. Mindless; Organized in my disarray. Surefooted in my solemnity. She breathes, a pace away in distance yet a world away in mind. Common ground disappearing as the miles unfold beneath the tires of our journey.

Wanting more and needing less. Wings fluttering against the glass ceiling of disillusion. Yearning for a glimpse of understanding. The developing chasm shifting the earth under our feet as we clutch at the air. I am, but not to her. She is to me, but not willingly. She knows, but cannot accept. I accept, but cannot truly know.

Ever changing rhythms of heart and soul. Where is the surety? Where is the heart touched with knowing? Have we blurred the lines of propriety with overconfidence and candor? Reality tempers or destroys, not knowing nor caring which. Pressure turns to diamond or dust with no thought of value or consequence. Different cuts of cloth, depending upon skill and effort expended, can become a majestic tapestry or a hideous fashion "faux pas".

So small in our endeavours, so dim in our perceptions, we seek things of which we know not the value, nor do we apparently care. Hot down my cheeks, love runs freely. Seeking absolution, seeking redemption, seeking release. Struck upon the knuckles of my heart, I recoil with the force of the conviction:


"What's wrong with you?"

A question I've repeated numerous times in the conflagration of my bitter soul. A question to which I have none and many answers. A question posed to me countless times since my expulsion from the solitude of post-conception innocence.



I am tired. My heart is weakening from the constant onslaught from within and without.



I live and breathe, and still I am breathless.