I'm scaRed...

Outside a closet,
Outside in the cold, bleak,
Evening twilight,
Outside the comfort,
Of home's dim light,
Outside the places we walked,
And stood,
Outside the moon's light,
Outside the warmth,
Of all the past nights,
Outside the screams,
Of our fright.

Against these steps,
Forward,
Against these movements,
Toward,
Some new, unfettered plane,
Against,
The way my tongue can roll off,
Your name,
Against large, old,
Trees,
Rooted and unmoving in this place,
Planted by rivers,
Nurtured into ease,
Simple capture.

Toward some renounced dream,
Some new and consumed mean,
Toward a different night and sky,
Toward all the questions,
The how, the why,
Toward a better movement,
Toward a more true feeling,
A constant interest,
Toward a pinnacle of,
Ease.
Resting here,
Nestled in fear,
That the movement was wrong,
The notes played,
Were for a different song,
The trip was short,
Or too long.

I know more,
Than is good.
I know too little,
About the can't and the should.

I have pushed outward,
Into this landscape,
I have carved, and drilled in,
And shaped,
An intrusion,
A foreboding circumstance,
An indifference,
To the charms,
Of any dance.

I feel this possession,
This fear,
I haven't seen or heard,
But, I realize,
The mistake,
The wrong,
And, I am scaRed.