I’ve spent two lifetimes in the past, all told,
Split between regret and nostalgia equally.
And yes, I miss them like the childhood friends they are,
But what is fondness without presence?
It is catching the last gaze of a missed friend on a busy street,
When both of you are too occupied to take a second look.
It is the unanswered cry for an absent love,
And one who is unlikely to return.
But despite these incongruities, I condemn myself,
Daily meeting the present only for morning coffee
And half-hearted awakenings.
And though it has always been there and welcomed me
With open arms of satisfaction, I have loved the past,
Perhaps a little too dearly, straggled on a little too long,
Like an over-faithful wife.
I miss the days of blind inherency,
But have sacrificed them.
I have prayed “return, return”
But turned a blind eye to those that never left.
So let it be simple not as it was,
But as it shall be.
And let the unbearable levity of Presence overtake me Until I float up and burst like a champagne bubble.