Its inevitable.

there exists a certainty underlying
the threshold of uncertain times,
so that which you disregard
will build
craftily behind the scene.
the deserted never forgets the deserter,
and the marooned have chance for rescue
when beyond the discarder's reach.
these jettisoned ideals, buoyantly,
ride wave upon wave until beached.
because that is the destiny,
of something afloat at sea.


when refused
the abandoned seeks restitution.
in this negative space lies the inevitable
forever fashioning and festooning
preparations behind the next closed door.

a holy matrimony

who am I to describe such grace,

as the boundlessness of time and space?

I am but an intrepid groom,

who attempts to lift the veil too soon,

or peer through the lace,

to steal a glance of your face.

what is it that I hope to see

to quell the restlessness in me?

is it but another disguise,

or is there comfort in your eyes?

whatever it be,

will you set me free?