This is Now

Gregory Scott

Take it now.

    For this will always be yours.

    This work.

(I wrote this awhile ago. Just now publishing it.)

Dedicated. 

- This ode of sorts. 

Hey you - this in-corruptiable silence. 

It cuts the air around me in a rapturous prayer. 

But prayers are like blessings. 

Kissed off the wind. 

So grab on and hold. 

To what? Me. 

I still remember when you used to say. 

One-always-never-lost. 

And "Love-Life" was ours. 

Do you still consider?

Insane or a genius? 

Or does it matter anymore? 

Do you even think of it?

Or is it all as cold as I feel.

I guess this is the ground I made.

The land I sowed. 

Reaping; more lonely than ever. 

By your leave, I'll walk my path.

Alone. 

Always alone. 

For that is how I seem to have always stood.

With some song in my heart and behind my mind.

And a wall around it all.

And yet my imagination creates, seeks, and finds. 

Reasons for my own.

And why I pressed and defended.

My only love now is my pen. 

The only real power I have. 

Are the words I've always had to speak. 

And if I was better at this. 

Poems and subtle stories would not be needed. 

Ink would be waste. 

For you would know truly. 

The depths would be lightened.

And my heart would be free.

For you to observe and explore. 

But I am not there. 

And fear-driven.

Like every mad-man.

Whom felt autumn rip through trees and skin and passion.

And everytime I look.

I hope.

And wish. 

And record the clock at 11:11. 

And here's my statement.

For the jury awaits: 

I mourn. And dream.

And all my dreams are haunted. 

And so I'll numb myself.

To this, to you, and to my heart.

And put walls around the cauldron. 

Of molten words, and molten passion, and the molten pain. 

So back to the road.

My journey of epics,

and seeking, 

and exploring all. 

Good bye to you. 

My thanks for walking as far as you would. 

And being at my side on my path. 

Last,

May peace always be upon your mind.