Ignition
Too much of life
is played out
inside the head,
tripping off down some
side road into where
we've been,
or has us lost in a mirrage
floating in the "what could be"
somewhere up ahead.
A dark within us
doesn’t like living in the now,
as if the present
is small pickings for it
to feed our fears and guilt.
Past and future
are the hells of never enough,
the ache of want.
Strung between the two
is the somewhere
we live our lives,
the moving moment
where the eternal touches,
the point of ignition
beyond which
only love survives.
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