All my lines
are truncated,
even the vibrant ones.
I trusted my dreams once,
now,
I fear the good ones.
Sometimes I miss the nightmares.
The cruel,
the terrifying;
at least they made me fond
of the waking world.
The way the fear
and then the affection
left me,
leaving me cold.
Betrayed by the rapture.
I reached out my hands
and held them to the fire.
I begged the sky to fall,
but the stars mocked me.
The Moon stayed high
in its heaven
and the Sun still burned;
the reliable thing
about a nuclear fire.
Pacing out the distance
between where we are
and where we need to be.
Might as well
buckle up
and hang on tight.
We’re gonna get there like a Tesla,
only this time it’s for real.
Drag those old wheels out;
fast down the pathways
heading for the future.
Flip the bird
as the signs go by.
Fuck ’em.
Don’t even read ’em.
You can tell what they are
by their shape,
so there’s no need to settle.
Never ending discords,
when played properly
sound melodic,
but the radio is broken,
or stolen,
or whatever.
Stop asking stupid questions.
This is the home stretch now.
We’re almost there,
get ready to change it all.
Take a last glance at everything,
even terminal deceleration
isn’t going to change out plans.
We’re headed for the outskirts,
that old, dead plain
between the mountains
and the desert
and the sky.
Take out those old dreams,
shake ’em out like a blanket
and we’ll watch the stars,
with their past light,
becoming the present,
as we enter the future.
Swinging wide
on the end of the timeline.
Get a little perspective.
Trade a little day
for some night
and burn a little wisdom.
Holding on
never made us strong.
Believing in our dreams
didn’t make them come true.
It was the doing,
the act,
the immediacy
that took us out here
under forever.
Here we take it all in,
see we’re not the center,
but not weak anymore.
Powerful
and endless.
HG – 2018
