the way of heaven is a vast net
& although its mesh is wide,
it catches everything.
yet hell has a way
of manifesting fury,
yellow in the morning
where the day forms,
& it's harder to see when you're staring
into the light that surrounds you.
thus time, in it's way,
counteracts the symptoms of reason,
taking seemingly logical courses of action
& costuming them into our lives
like death has a way of invading.
& it fulfills its purpose:
one lies to themselves
& the seams are sealed
& packaged inside us; timebombs,
beasts of clean relief..
& i've seen you explode so many times
yet i'm still so honestly surprised
to see you.
perhaps the angels of my atmospheres
will find me perpetually disappointed
or maybe by letting go,
as i've learned to do,
i'll teach myself to not remember you
in the ways that distract my cardinal heart
& i'll just move on
as if love were something
that anyone could just ignore...