it’s bittersweet to survey
the field of one’s becoming
with an eye
to what’s real and (what could never be?)
reminisce about the past holding
(close) those moments
which slipped from our hands
forever lost into dust and decay —
or relationships broken
and an ever fractured ego
faced with its own faded reflection.
i’d turn back the hands of time
if given half the chance
but what would emerge from nothingness
when shadows brought to light
finally cross our path?
was always the better option
and (maybe held fast
in that disguise)
the chance for some redemption.