Anonymous

Across the grid-like mesh of rain on vinyl glass,
Like a phoenix, a scarlet-indigo streak passed…
And left me to insinuate a roadside vacant bench
For missing whatever that passed night-sent…
And distracting me with the humble murmur—
Who goes there?
On my path, soon after lightning pierced the night,
Dimming the sight of the rods in my mindless eyes…
I saw a girl up ahead, bungee-jumping oblivious
To faltering rays of distant stars unable to reach her.
Enveloping her, asked the radiance of the closest star---
Who stands there?
On those pages, I recorded the rages of my failures,
That I still remember, without the dated pages anyways.
Upon this bed, caught in the grid-like mesh of universes
Overlapping, here right now, sits with me, identical ‘us’,
Thinking, loving, remembering something I let pass,
Fondling, smelling the skin off the other side of the grass…
You were there all the while,
And unnoticed you passed me by.
And the days whisk by, upon my vinyl glass…
Today I look around, seeking her address…
In the faces I relented and let simply pass.
So humbled at long last, I ask Anonymous

Who goes there?