The moment is gone. In the beautiful distance
Of time, through our mightily felt regrets
It smiles as the mind’s futile resistance
Offers the ‘ifs’, rearranging the blacks and the reds.
Red: if a hint of a smile you could only read
In my lips through that day of nagging and scolding,
In the moment of my undeclared need
When I was shouting silently ‘Hold me’,
Would you step outside of your wounded self,
Throw me the arms of protective ring.
No words to be said; or would I have
Walked the sharp egg shells in the offering?
Black: if you wake up in the deepest blue,
The pounding heart of descending into Morpheus Hell,
In the moment of greatest vulnerable you
The scariest journey you are unlikely to tell,
Would I rip off the shimmering silver lining
Of the cloud that haunts you within,
Gently wrap you in it; or would I indulge in declining
Your need for withdrawal as selfish and mean?
In the beautiful distance that moment is gone,
Smiling and not to be answered ‘how’.
Through the riveting lessons every second is born
In the past and the future completeness of ‘now’.