overanalytical

We talk as a precursor 

To nothing that 

We swear will mean something - 

Someday.

We ponder and debate

About the "What Ifs" and

Life's mysterious ways - 

Inconclusively.

We scream and yell and cry

And fight

But swear it's for the better - 

It's not.

We lie to others and to ourselves

To make our dreams come to life.

A dream we've chased for years - 

Mistakes.

We toss and turn and swear it

Was worth everything;

Our dignity, our hearts, our innocence -

Destroyed.

We lie in tatters, arm-in-arm,

Blithe amidst our destruction.

History, our constant companion,

Repeats.

  

rockets

undeniably tangled in a web of

propulsion,

i unknowingly strap my life to

rockets

whose designs weave unknown 

riddles to my forecast - 

each jolt designed momentarily

as i rise -

where known only to tomorrow is 

the forecast of today,

filled with wisdom far beyond the

landscape of the moment.