This I know, I have
felt it before. Much like
a storm brewing on the
horizon, or the ache of
aging bones announcing
a fast approaching cold,
this bitterness-of-breath,
snail-crawling through
my chest, that leaves
within it’s wake, no
chance mistake to
believe it could ever be
anything else,

than a dream... dying.

I have bear-trapped
you to me for long
enough to know that
it is time to let you go.
Solomon like, I realize
that I can not help you.
I can not change you.
I can not fix you, for
you are beyond me.
You will never be
road worthy enough
to travel upon the
path I am to take, and

the dream... is dying.

I will lie as I release
you, that… I did not
do before. No, I will
not claim you as mine.
This time… this time,
you will be abandoned
by another. I will have
to state, as they take
you away, that you
were not my heart’s
desire, my inner fire,
and a part of me will
retire… with you, as

this dream... lies dying.

Before you go, I wish
you to know, that even
though we failed to go
the distance, you fed
the flames, and the
passion burns on. I
will realize my dream
one day and you will
have played a part.
Perhaps it did not
start with you, but it
will not end there either.
This dream is a Phoenix,

and from your ashes,


it is born again.