an awakening.

To sit,
in some hopeful repose
that your broken measures
will meet my whole means,
battling some fitful dream
of listless love and
maddening screams.

To stand,
in longing wait
for your love to reach out
to me
like sands and shore to sea,
a crippled now
a broken bow
a saddened glimpse of we.

To walk,
in some dreaded, dangling
pace
in want for some peace
that only you could bring.
the wait of the shark,
for it's prey
the pleading of the nocturne soul
for the breaking of a day.

To pray,
to some distant,
distinct god
for the fullness of you.
like the insistence of the color
blue
the murkiness in I,
the purity of you.

To dream,
of some day
of some way
that you could advance
here,
to me,
to complete
the beat of my heart,
the rhythm of my drum,
the lyrics of my heart/song.

To believe,
there should even be
a smile here
or a tear there,
a restplace on your shoulder
a homespace for my own cover
like some weakened lean-to,
that I could ever be enough for you.

To know,
I would never have
your hand,
in any way,
inside any plan
like the thunder
that never brings rain
or the sounding of the
bell that surely will bring
the heart pain.

To live,
inside this life
without you at my side,
no relation of strength,
the moon,
no tide.
the river, free
and currents, wild.

To wake,
each day
without the sanctity of your hand,
the pleasure of your delight,
being the final piece of your plan,
Like the tree with dying
roots,
I am moved,
from here,
away from you,
into the yonder
of my own insistent blue.

Jason Christopher Johnson
August 19, 2013