March Incomplete - Skepticism

Back at my worn out desk

Where former triumphs were written

Where former losses were forgotten

Where now lies a void

light glimmering through the curtains

sun has just risen

dust motes dancing slowly in the light

sun needs to rise

how else she could fall

Ink on the paper in scruffy lines

markings leading nowhere

I can hear

the roots of the trees

growing

deep under

my feet

I can feel

the sky falling

down from

where it

used to be

I can see

the stars becoming

dim

and the darkness

of the sky

should I merge

these lines

or just

let them die

I have departed and I will not return

Yet to proceed is not to arrive

To reach out is not to achieve

Nearly there is not complete

Not the journey that matters

Nor the destination

Not close, not near, not becoming

Just steps or parts incomplete

Incomplete is a form of loss

Incomplete is a form of pain

Incomplete is an ordeal

shall I proceed

The March Incomplete