Lucky Decision

Went down that weed-flanked watery path again
Six years ago was the first;
The congealed bags of cement are still there
With footsteps scooped out forever to last.
They break the clear water’s flow,
They curl, wrinkled and shallow,
Then they move on, forever in thirst
For the rims of clothes of walkers to soak.

Perhaps I would have thrown
A coin into that thread of a brook,
Was I not, myself, today
So completely broke.
If I was myself, today…
Completely alone.

There’s a fluorescent hint in that gong of a bell
It defies the all-consuming night,
Yet when light is seeping in through the cracks
Under windows, the night must have complied.
It darts, cornered, from corner to corner
Alleging, struggling for its right to linger,
Before it yields to the all-seeing Light,
Trusting in hope of being remembered.

Maybe I would’ve inhaled deep
The first kiss of dew-diluted air
Had I not heard the gong
Command the rules I would
Shadow soon, all day long…
In forfeited pursuit.

I never crossed that stream again...

If I needed, I went around.

I never opened my eyes to that bell...

Deaf to the lucky sound.

Will it come...will it come...

It will come when it will come...

I am done waiting for you.