The consequences of possibility,
with their endless openings of doubt,
dance a slow throb about my desires.
Fear, like a flower, unfolds walls of intimacy,
preventing a breach in the otherwise open discourse
of the day to day exchanges of work and home;
where to speak outside of myself is to court oblivion.
In this abstraction of my life I struggle,
through an ever-thickening swamp, for a meaning
to ground myself in. A meaning which is not just another
platitude, some pat cliché to skim along the surface,
safe, yet ignorant of the potential life and love about me.
(October 2010)
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