once the dreams are it

Let it go, leave it lie, the blessings may yet come around again. You light a candle, whisper a wish, think “how soft” as the smoke curls silk and shadow. Somehow the falling is still hard. The porch light’s on in case someone is looking or lost, the music is low, the night yet undecided. Only this much, taking it breath to breath. Always so much missed.

The snoring dog, the dusty glow, the way memory bends the eye. A weary moan as the walls weigh down. The mold in the walls sing the ancient hymns, the path and the lessons. The blues is cued, the wolf of storied wax, the story never leaving you alone. 

Make no mistake, these little miseries will too be missed. There’s always more low to go. These days of warm bed and full belly will be sorely missed in the dark soon to be. All the heartaches and beat downs long ago burned for warmth, left in deleted accounts and careless envelopes, something to dream on once the dreams are it. The candles burning down, the ending in the work.