running (poem)

the misty veil reveals a wry dwindling
of whenever, whoever, and then
a memoriam, not dark, instead
a lightness of being untarnished
not provoked nor still

an uncertain uncertainty
of mixed allure
revealing neither for you nor me
the risk that lies ahead

behind what could have been
what is, and what could be
a story untold

in that permanent mist
unyielding and serenely damp
is where a new comfort lies

one where there isn’t a you
or me, or even us
but an unchartered beginning
through a bridge of dreams

an adventure waiting to be lived
for the courage to be wielded
and the fog to be lifted
by the simple perilous act
of running through it
wildly and freely

// written on my sofa at 2:48am, nyc