What can it be, what should it have been? Can we change futures before they begin?

Inclining toward, in climbing forward, living the propensity to want what we cannot have. Flavorless language fails to define the quandaries at hand; trite rhymes, insipid diction, we do the best we can.

We are sands; benign when freshly doused, silk when fully dried, and in either state, always helpless against the tide. We fall through slender corridors of glass, time itself we have thus become. Before, here, gone; yet never forgotten. Melt us to see the world outside. Melt us to see into the future’s tide.

Tis’ that tide that takes us under, rendered asunder, we are tossed forward and back. A pledge through rise and fall, an eternal glow shimmers through the times that beckon you to crawl, yet does it even exist at all?

Hands remain held through the tempest. We are but human; a strong effort is our greatest gift to give. Matters never the end provided proper means; if done are the means well and a person means well then an unintended ending is not something on which to dwell. I’ve nothing in gold and riches, I possess an exterior of bruises and stitches, it’s neither ego nor control that I proffer insofar as humility and tenderness are the righteous things to offer.

The shore pilgrim puts us in his hand; the grains of us fall through the cracks, warm infancy into the winds. Neither of malice or benevolence, they profess to merely exist. What ere was is what is and what shall always be. I pray for the substantiation of you and me.

Tony Blau Veldt, completed 10/14/2014