desultory

it’s like denying the voice of God

and yet it comes so easily

time and again.

in beauty, tragedy elopes

and the scars that never quite heal

the self doubt and failure

festering just under the skin

giving the performance of a lifetime

pulling out all the stops

nailing the delivery of

every syllable, every line

suddenly looking up and finding

all the seats empty

and the whole place is dark.

I can hear the ice cracking

and turning back at this point

is

just as long a journey as

following through.

leaving me here

desolate

with the lingering scent

of music

on my lips

singing stanzas, whole verses

of praise to what we were;

sunshine so bright

I’d swear I could hear it.