Has it arrived? 
The hesitant resurfacing of the sublime, 
from the confines of ambition. 
The quivering admission of we’re not so different you and I. 
Thus urge the gut, trust lest you regress. 
Sun kissed, my feet swept. Upend the oath kept. 
Weary arms outstretched, I unexpect. 
Wary, I inch toward it. Fearful the artform distorts it. 
Rather clumsily catch and set free than bask in what’s left to let be. 

Family car ride, dad passenger side, now I drive. 
City lights meant naptime, 
I’d wake when we’d pull through the gate. 
Least I could do for a birthday. 
Most I could say was a smile. Inside, I soared. 
Mom said she saw me crying through a window, 
left me to dry my eyes with the group.
She said to herself, “Someday, he’ll make it through,
Someday, he’ll know what I always knew.” 
One day, she told me that came true. 
I weeped like fireworks. 
My sister and I thumbing through records, laughing like we used to. 
Time traveling, salvaging innocence, polishing, restoring. Mending. 
Future can wait, I’m sated remembering. 
Not without its thorns. Roses vigorously plucked,
A beauty worth bleeding for.
Breathing like I mean it more. 
The privilege to people watch. 
Imagining. A narrative is alive where you only enrichen.
I promise I’ll publish it. Nonfiction. When I find my footing.
The miracle of finding our footing. 
Embarrass me. Tear me to shreds. 
More confetti to celebrate us reuniting. 
Basking in the failure to capture. 
This doesn’t deserve art.

Failing Capturing

mr. master