Maybe I ought to use music and let it speak for me and then agonize over whether the songs tell the tale as I want, hope and wish it to be told.
Except it is late and I can’t make this one of those stay up all night long sessions to get this right even though I am wide awake.
I hear the clock inside my head and feel it beating inside my heart, got words begging to be set free and a mouth that refuses to speak them…today.
There is an idea that was and a sense that it might be. I can smell the faint hint of memory and will follow it into dreamland and see if when I awaken it still waits for me upon the other side.
It is the final day of my forties and the entrance into the next phase of life. Mom sleeps upstairs while dad slumbers 1500 miles away.
I looked for him at the airport knowing I wouldn’t see or find him there, but I sense his presence.
In a moment I’ll head off to bed, oldest of my line and about to cast off from shore and set sail again.
Five minutes of writing designed to empty out part of the cranial closet knowing it will never be read or understood exactly as I hope or want which could lead to something better or worse.
Can’t know, won’t know until we try.