Cynical

Once the lies were truth
A someday was a promise
Hope, a gilt veneer

String

I wonder if I should tie a string to my wrist
So I could remember that promise I made with the future
That me who was, knew without equivocation
That only shining things lay up ahead

Memento

The old mementos cease to be comforting
The look back at a rosy past
No longer forecast the same blissful future;
Ignorance once destroyed by knowledge
Cannot be pieced together whole again

(In)compatible

Time runs uniquely to two
In circular or straightforward fashion
Like bright ribbons that stretch into the distance
Perhaps never meeting
Perhaps meeting when one is too newly dyed
Perhaps meeting when one has frayed for quieter spaces
Ah, what meaning is there to think:
If we had only met earlier or later?
The now is all that matters
The now is the miracle or the great sadness

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Anxiety

Many times I wish I were a stronger person
So I could disallow anxiety to rule me
Why fret over a situation I cannot change?
Why fret over a future that may not come to fruition?
That sticky quagmire robs me of joy and peace
Robs me of movement to do other things
To solve the problems that I can
And to build lasting trust in myself