By His Own Choice

For so long he had believed in all
those linear spans of time. And that
each place remained the same old place
he'd come to know when he was just
a very little boy.

Mother image, safe and strong.
Father out there in the world, pretending
to be right instead of wrong.  Yet therein
lay the glitch that must prove fatal.
For his mother and his father had been
gone for longer than he ever dared identify.

Compulsion came in his obsessive counting.
These days it never really seemed to count
for much at all. Zombie-like, he moved,
as someone other lived him on. For all
that he had based his life upon, had come
full circle to a point that felt like no more
than a gross betrayal.

The family he'd imaged for himself.
They never came to be just what he planned.
No matter any span of time he granted them
to make the changes that he thought would
ease the burden haunting him inside.

Children grown, his wife a clone of all the
many other wives out there. The house,
the cars, the attitudes that spoke of only
more or less - that came and went so quickly -
head reeling from the feel of doors
that opened as they closed on all of them.

And he couldn't find a way to make amends
for all the sorrow that they bore and stored -
left to feel some other day or time.
Yet that was just the way that their
society had told them they should be.

To take, but never really give at all.
To stockpile, in the lapse of need, instead
of offering a helping hand. And to never
dare to take a stand on anything at all.
Laying low, he'd wasted so much life.
Levels within levels, within layers of
emotions. He'd told himself they didn't
count, somehow.

Yet now he could no longer find a way
to run away from all that lay so heavy
on his heart and soul. For so long,
he had believed in all those linear
spans of time. And that each place
remained the same, no matter any
other change out there.

But now, some part of him became
incessant whispering within his mind.
And for all that he had chosen once
to climb - the fear had reached too deep
inside for him to keep on livingall those
alibis of old. For her realized that
this was it, for him.

No longer could he claim that endless
youth of days of yore. For now he was
the older generation. And no matter any
absolution granted, still he sought another
lifetime full of splendid moments.
Even though he knew he'd never spent
his time in ways that ever felt quite good
enough for love at all.

There was a rise, yet now it seemed
to take its form from misty images
of other lifetimes in the long ago.
Years, and yet it seemed an endless span.
For he knew that he would never, ever
find a way to love that way again.
And it haunted him, for now he knew,
it came by his own choice...

? Michaelette ?

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