Rivulet

How many years of this dark rain falling drop by drop upon your soul corroded desire and shattered mind’s eye ability to see and feel a sunny day fully alive with opportunities that waited by patiently but could never be taken

Pain that lived trapped inside you Weighted you down So much that you can never be fully aware How many past ages of loss can live inside a tear Rivers that flowed leaving rivulets Deep traces carved inside flesh and bone Soul tracks of wilderness places your being moved along Propelled by who knew what tide of lost hope and frustated longing

Oh no! those lost years when tidal flow of alcohol brought dissolution and forgetting the unpredictable tide carried you beaching you then on a distant shore where you lay shipwrecked awakening in the bright dawn to delirum shock memory with consciousness obliterated after your being faded falling obliviously into silent darkness

you awoke to blistering sun and herds of goats not remembering how you got here another black out throat parched you are only dimmly aware of how you have stumbled and fallen so very far from home and the way back is impossible to find

yet even then angels protected you in those moments when no one inside was there to care and it would take years to see how the hurting they gave you rebounded and rebounded deep inside ricochetting until desire for healing then awoke a waterfall torrent that carried you forward bringing storms and setting fire to the landscape with a frenzy blaze silently burning along every nerve sinew singing deep inside

in the wreckage that was left you gathered a pile of hot coals and walked through it  there were years of awakenings to realisations of your lost life and a lost dream that was hoped for but never real never fully possible for you due to all that was taken supports torn away leaving you with no legs to stand on

rivulets carry you silently through another night of dreaming truths turned to metaphor and image which abate at dawn as you awaken on a distant morning to realisation of a life and memories you never chose

who is dreaming the dreamer?

yet now is not then though mysteriously close is all of this past – now you find yourself close to a home that lay spread before just a little too far from reaching glimpse held quietly in minds eye tainted a dawning hope and possiblity of something fresh and new you can build from deep inside all of this waste this lost dreaming this wreckage