Encompassed from zenith to horizon,
From Edge to Edge of my periphery,
The splendid memory of you and me
Like the Edge of a cliff facing an ocean.
Your voice, soothing and endearing,
Swishing, lightly whistling, and hush.
Like a gentle nudge, the wind to push
A warm breeze that tickles my hearing.
So picturesque, as if taken from my past.
I swear I’ve seen light before it turns dark .
A reminder of how much I want to disembark
Beyond a view I never thought would last.
A misstep here means an end to a memory kept.
Waves crash, spurn stone in the perilous shallows.
I watch safely from a distance the danger below,
But here I am, at the Edge, anticipating my steps.
Since I’m not certain, I maintain my foothold.
Should my memory and reality stay distinct?
and in my good sense, perhaps my instincts
wish to carefully tread along that threshold.
I wish to take the next step, but everything I fear,
In some delusion or misunderstanding, I fathom,
That if my demise awaits me there at the bottom
I’ll stoically plummet to my death and disappear.
But since I’m not sure, and completely uncertain
I don’t wish to fall over the cliff side and dive off
If the sea wasn’t willing to break my fall that day.
That cliff would stay there as we last left it, then
And etched into my memory as the ocean sloughs;
Erosion weathers rock, sediment, and sand away.
But I will remain unchanged for when you pledge
That you will wait for me when I fall over the Edge.
I savor our final days like it was our last,
Like the cool droplets in the summer heat.
I count them down like all other days past,
And curiously ask when next shall we meet
But the days and weeks grow long,
And I, too, am weary of the gaps.
How far my steps and my breathing
Will carry me before I collapse?
I savor the end with you but not without conflict,
Neither bitter nor resentful of the time in between.
I am patient, but I am only human. It would seem,
What renders me vulnerable is not – the waiting,
It is the thought of becoming a liar.
And when waiting is all I can do
Because my word is all I can give.
The passage of time, my only respite,
These promises are given in earnest.
“I want you to be worth the wait.”
I hold in me that one final hope.
If you strip me bare to my core,
Leave me with that one belief.
I am not foolish enough to think that anything is owed;
Words are only as worthwhile as the hope they represent,
And we place such value on that air, it made so precious.
And your promises to me, are worth all of their weight.
But what weight does waiting have,
When promises are like bated breath.
When held, our days grow numbered,
and near the end, while there is still time,
I refuse to relinquish my last remaining hope.
It is the only thing I offer that will not vanish;
I would rather suffocate than to breath our last…