Coda

I want to table the idea of destiny and its lack of guidance and will

Grey sky behind me in the photo, yet smiling, so sure

You in the photo with the sea behind you

It’s slipped away [moments]

I want to curtail the way my memories pass through my fingers like sand from some beach I went to so long ago

To be able to nurture them, immerse myself in them no matter how cold or warm

Put the most important ones in a box only I have the key to

Put it away somewhere safe

I want to stop wondering what if this and that

That cruel torment and rumination of a billion and one futures that may or may not have been

If a photo could tell a story, looking back I don’t imagine it would have been an epic novel

More of a short story, something immersive yes, but a short story still.

Let me stop you [there] because right now I can’t focus on outside, on that fragmented rain that beats down [me down]

Helter skelter rushing pounding me into submission

I need a minute an hour a day. Who knows – maybe more [much more]

There’s no letup from the frantic fanatic fantastic thoughts plowing the land of my brain into famine

If I put a hand out to steady myself it might just pause and become static
& wilt
& stop

If I reach out to catch this feeling it might be heavy [too heavy], I think I might break
I’m worried if I bring this scene into focus like some bizarre director’s cut it will be real

Round & round the garden [like a, a what?]
Up, down, all around, shaken with the sound

Perhaps the next day normal service will resume & the sun’s rays will split me open until all the amber disintegrates

Perhaps I’ll be delayed a day or two. Leaves on the track; train stuck at the station

If I’m honest with you and let you peer inside at my mind like it’s a dolls’ house you might see odd shapes, colours, sounds. Bizarre sights like a sideshow

What would you think? Do you zoom in, macro focus, high-res?

From here it’s pixelated, fuzzy, kaleidoscope that’s gone wrong, left out in the rain too long [silly billy]

Put my hand over the end of it to cover up the light – perhaps what’s left is a couple of leaking shards of artificial sun trying to keep me awake [+ from drowning]

Is this a scene of control [of farce?] [of an ending?]

Sorry, time to go [we march on]