A Week Past Pessimism
A week past pessimism
here I sit,
remembering weakly
Days and dreams
false hopes and prophets
ineptitude and missed ambition.
but now, I tell myself,
remember now no more,
cast aside each fett'ring weight;
and paint the future
if u can
with the untamed neon
or colors far beyond this spectrum.
yes, still sit
in the grey September rain
still wash and founder in
its long wet grass
still fling your longing wildly
into its wind,
but run:
into the night
into tomorrow
into the freeing, rain washed blue
and fall into the sky.
as trees flash out in glory
from the last burnt lights of summer,
flash out yourself
in untamed colors
far beyond this spectrum.
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