Peaceful afterthoughts

It seems I’ve reached the point
where instead of moving towards
what are promised to be

the most beautiful years of my life

I am moving through them, past them
onward and away
while still feeling myself to be waiting.

My efforts are disjointed,
a futile writhing

against that which does not even need

to push back
because it has already won.
Yet really

the most beautiful moments of my life

are the ones waiting.
They wait for me to notice them
in the chords of a song, in peaceful afterthoughts,

in windy nights by the lake, city humming
with life in the distance, boats rocking, sails writhing

against thin air.



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