scavenged.

the brightest spots these days are turning out to be false lights.
uh-huh.
fox fire, neighbors.
ignis fatuus.
will o' the wisps, always getting further the closer i try to approach.
distance is measured by time as well as space,
and it's been lightyears since i could hold a candle to any sort of sunny disposition
i'm getting farther from the fairy-flossed flames of bright bright brightness,
and nightswimming in the icy deeps of the even darker places.
...yeah.
illumination is often disappointing.

yep.
it burns out and fades away.
*
there's light without warmth,
and the shadows cast by these duplicitous lucifers are long and deep indeed.
every artificial lighthouse has a narrow beacon at best,
a slim slivered silver slice of unidirectional artifice that sends more into obscurity than it reveals,
until we crash on the shoals and shatter on the shores,
and find ourselves stranded and waiting to be stripped bare and picked clean
by hungry ghosts who know enough to bring their own torches with them.
hard styles, kids.
they never really soften, do they?
-
so,
there's that going on,
but it's also a beautiful day in the immediate area surrounding that somber sh!t.
real talk,
it's time for weekends and strong finishes.
yuuup.
i doo-doo that, duders.
sometimes,
even the worst times can make for the very best times.
i mean,
without stories, a storyteller is well and truly something else instead, right?
yeah.
so here's to dilated students of wide-open places and really real life,
and diluted pupils peering cheerfully teary-eyed into concentrated camps
on either side of every argument.
the viewpoint from behind the light is just as limited as it is when facing it.
back-to-back face-to-face-offs, kids.
the moon wanes, the sun shines,
the snow reflects both, but is only diminished by one.
every day is the worst day,
and today is another 'nother one of those;
never quiet, never soft.....