Many deaths

Have you become a ruin of routine?
Was it a failed fortune or a cause long lost?
Perhaps it is the way that time unfolds –
like mountain crests crumbling to its steeps.
Whatever the reason, its your turn now –
to set sail from familiar friendly waters.

Remember when you approached her?
Unsure, fragile, nervous, excited, curious.
How gently her quirks you embraced?
And how, like an ivy, her warmth grew?
From all of which, you are anxious to leave –
despite dreams that linger in thirst.

You have to go – chin up and defeated.
Sure of a purpose and wreak in emotions.
You have to go now, knowing fully well –
that things will still be, without your presence;
that you will live in refuge of wilting memories,
and will die on these shores – one of many.

 

– To Warszawa and co.