Riding across the water,
I witnessed the fog burning off the hills,
the lifting of a great weight from my home,
as I watched from far, out on the lake.
Had I forgotten how beautiful you are,
or lost touch with the pulsing memory in my hand in your hand,
that my heart leapt out of its comfort,
and the love in your eyes carried me through?
It was like resting on a sheet of glass,
that shattered when I awoke,
and in the numbness of waking, I felt nothing
of the piercing dust that took flight,
and I was left with an empty feeling of want
as if I needed to sense that which hurt me.
"I follow the beat of my own heart"
travel the hill up to find the sheer drop
as your jaw gapes down, and your gaze falls,
it is decidedly grim and you decree your utter loss,
at the first depression in the way.
