To the Nights of Fleeting Flight
To pursue endlessly
the dark behind
stars
every shadow birthed
from the sun
and every window opened
for the moon
Entails the lightest, most fleeting of thoughts
to go without being
taken for granted
knowing every and any moment in time, perfectly rendered could be
the end of all time, with none
holding precedence or privilege
over the other, with no one
idea going overturned
like a stone or a bill or the yammering alarm
snoozed and deferred,
to go without being outspoken
but spoken just enough
to be, at last, heard, and to long enough
resonate in the hearts of those
burdened nightly by all the night sky
weighing down on their chests while lying prone
on their mattresses relentlessly asking
why, and for what purpose?
To what end must we always be reminded
of how quickly g(ODD) can omnipotently destroy us, omnisciently see our suffering, and omnibenevolently avert our gaze?
And for those, who's names must never be erased
on the shores of time
who suffered at the hands of crime
never to go unprinted, unaccounted for, or wholly unresolved,
know this: you are more than a mere thought in someone's mind, more than a fleeting feeling of zephyrus and breeze, you are a force to be
believed in, an opened window, an unlocked door, a porch light left on, and at last, someone's breath of relief,
they're,
g(ODD)amn it, they're home.