Kamikaze

We dove in young, like a kamikaze plane.

Without regard for love or pain.

We flew in low, wind at our backs,

Embracing hope in glory’s lack.

And swimming hard with dead men’s bones,

Alone…

Gripping romance’s illusion and fighting better judgment,

Abandoned doubts and gripped hard to the promises of greener grass in pastures that shout.

For a moment we cease to swim and allow the current to rip us back to the pastures and the masters of our past.

So won’t you float with me?

Past old stories and memories of old glories,

With history’s subtle refrain;

MAKING GRACE SEEM TO GOOD TO WASTE WITH THE THOUGHTS OF WHO WE ONCE WERE,

 pasted inside the gentle reminder that hindsight is not 20/20 and

HOPE HAS NO MEMORY,

But that of the waves that fold to break our illusion of control.

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