It is there and then you realize,
as with happiness,
the pain never left,
you just turned your back on it.
And like most things betrayed by noon,
and returned to by midnight,
you are slowly crawling your way back to it.
to where it is known
that your head fits.
No place in a day
for the little voice I am desperately trying not to extinguish
I betrayed you my companion
my reluctant comrade
in a rage to fit
into something that never cared
for more than my hands
and what my head could do with it.
My advice just get on
with the nightly ritual.
Every piece you give up
has consequences.
So listen to the old hermit
who has nothing not made out of matter
which wasn’t exchanged with wit:
Live with your mind
you will miss it,
be thankful for your shadow
and drag it through the desert
even if you don’t need it
I write in absence,
there is some wisdom in it
to act
as if you could tame the fire
when it consumes you.
John D.Dexter 