To feel, to know.

 

That the incandescence

of the pure illumination is but

a subtle bandage on the

rift that time left.

 

An attempt at sparking

the stoked coals, plentiful

yet unlit, banished to the black waters

and frigid hands, unwilling to let go.

 

To forget.

 

Reality’s pessimism,

the constricting darkness waiting

around the corners of my vision.

Fended off with the searing lights

and the intangible fine wine of

unopened memories,

golden years tainting

present melancholy,

The oakstained wisdom of benine age

seeping into the blood cascading

from casks of Amontillado.

Graspable, tangible, but only

in the impenetrable and unsavorable frostiness of

cold glass, savored as though a delicacy for the

enjoyment of moments between special occasions.

 

To smile.

 

Smiles of false exhilaration

drop their veneers to the magnitudes of

pure joy,

uplifting as much

as the buildings let me drop.

The amorphous mass of turmoil that nests

in my heart thus shakes loose

in the wake of the joy of godlike freedom.

 

To understand.

 

Moment upon precarious

moment, stacked

so that eventually,

the purity of my actions

forced me to end up here.

Vectors added to arrows that point

to this very second.

 

To let go.

 

Emotion, pent-up costs

of masks layered

on each other,

release their steam into

the dying night

and reborn light.

Tension’s grasp loosens,

and the smell of seafoam,

somehow,

fills the falling air.

To live.

 

The emotion that makes up the now

of the breaking dawn.

The very pausing of the

rest of the world, the

everything else,

the silence in the constant rush

that lets me freeze this memory

just enough

to remember.

Just one priority;

in the moment,

to feel the

sheer emotion

that captures the moment

to solve a coherence.

 

To be, if only for now, finally, home.

 

And I let go of the walls and dive.