The Road

Out there
            free to get lost
            free to find myself
nothing but the horizon
and the memory of you
In here
            lost in my thoughts
            lost in my dreams
I hold onto the moments
that help me find my way
back to you.
I love the road
            where I’m going
            where I’ve been
and the world it gives me
without and within.
I count the miles
            from there to here
            and back again
and the years that they’ve taken
and I’ve given away
from you.
But out there
and in here
            while finding myself
            while missing you
I have only myself
and the moments and memories
we have shared
and only the road
gives them back to me.


And I linger in the moment,
frozen by the finality of it all,
hanging on the hope
that it’s not really over,
that there’s more to come.
Savage and brutal
was the release,
but it wasn’t unexpected:
slow was the rise,
intense and elegant,
deliberate in its fury,
setting the stage
for what was to be.
Nothing was so perfect
as the way it began:
innocence forsaken,
voluntarily cast aside,
tempting Fate while
invoking the Muse
to spite the odds.
Somewhere between
before and after,
control was lost,
or maybe it was taken;
to who, from who
doesn’t really matter –
just that it was
as it was meant to be.
And all at once
there was surrender,
violent in its making,
a lesson learned in pressure.
Neither of us forgiving,
only holding on too tightly,
fighting to catch our breath
without losing each other.
But now, in the afterglow,
there is only you and I
and what we used to be
only a moment ago.