I am driven to write
so I'm writing again.
As down falls the night
and I grasp my pen,
I'm thinking back
to places I've been

Although we shouldn't
live in the past,
I just couldn't seem
to shake this ballast-
which had fastened me
to my peculiar past-

Its weight is great!
How can I comprehend?
I find it hard to wait-
can time possibly mend

~this connection~

to the beginning of the end?

Alas, now all is at rest
I'll do my best
to look to the west
and thus, discover a way
to sweep away
these bitter thoughts

I find today
that I have bought,
or at least put a
sufficient down payment
on a future
which is more certain

For when I peel back
the layers of curtain,
I see not a wizard,
but myself, in a blizzard-

Of connecting the past
to the future at last
in a way that makes me

~Breathe in,
  Breathe out~

And cherish this brief respite,
wherein I have lived for eternity

Which is but a mere speck,
compared to all the rest . . .