Wandering far, she brushed against them as she passed.
Each paused, flourishing briefly at her gentle touch.
Rebellious ingenuity, unguarded by genuine caring,
A succession of self upon self,
Hiatus transformed into a dream.
She gave not. She wanted not.
They did not comprehend, and withered at her passing.
Pain begot pain, perfectly framed,
Intention never at arms.
Returning to dark uncaring passages,
Forgotten, but hardened ever inward.
None understood, none ever would.
Wandering near, she lingered for a care.
Too soon, too late
The moment passed, unattended.
The least, inglorious time of cautious certainty,
Confined to assured failure.
At the instant of dissolution
Past and future conspire
To vanquish fleeting joy,
Presence lost beyond reclaim.
Wandering away, the passage barely noted,
Solitary healing grows falsely all around.
Blind wetness ensues throughout,
Feeling but never seeing.
Faux peace behind,
But naught within.
Question. Nurture. Surrender.
Let it be whatever it was intended to be.
Either way, it will or it won’t.
copyright r.b.franklin 30/08/05