I am here.

[Fingal]

In cold wakefulness and harsh light,
the wrinkles look like cracks;
the first sign of things
not wanted for or called.

Tho yet there is a hope
bold blind but not impossible,
if I can steer the wheel
and keep the tiller straight.

It comes from ventures far
-excitements still to have-
the possibilities of life and love,
unbounded by knot or rope:
Just pure survival.

Madness keeps my watch,
an ever gazing pupil
of devotion to the cause,
is set to call my weakness
and release my doom.

Through constant chastisement
of self do and don’t
I may still make the key stone
and finish life alive

I love you.