Is it fair to admit a truth
that would break a promise?
A bond set on course
but not yet moored.
Has this truth come too late
or just in time?
Is it unjust to the presence of the past
or to the present oversea investments?
Which is greater?
Which has priority in the continuum in time?
Can the fact wait
Is it misunderstood?
Is it worth saving myself from its crushing weight,
A life of regret and unrequiting longing,
If it perhaps becomes theirs with a burden multiplied of unknowable density,
Altogether different structures of lattice crystal.
And in the light I carry for such a one
would that lattice break?
In destroying one furture would another be gained
Or would both be forever tainted?
The final question must be
Of this light’s strength and length and origins.
If it is great and frequent and pure,
It must be shown,
For either to torch or to pyre,
Otherwise the light will consume itself
And its lighter in combustion that leaves embers burning;
Faded and isolated in space and time
To taint all other flames.
The only other possibility is that it would dwindle to a whisper
Of smoke giving way to darkness
That lacks resources and energy to strike
Anew a future.
My love is dead, refused, missed, or misplaced.
But love endures
Whether its around or in my hands
Or in the hands of others.
What would I really have to offer
But a soul tossed about by pressure
And in the tortuosity lose
The fact and the love
Left in years apart
And pieces of brokenness
For her and her present tense.
To dwindle the flame,
And twiddle another branch