every day, it’s very likely we will fail
every day, it’s very likely we will see this
as a bad thing

we’ll fail on our ideals
on our dreams
on some aspiration or goal
on a promise
on a project
on our unlimited potential

we’ll awake from some other place
another dimension
another life
another reality
back to face this one
again

we’ll remember what we were worrying about
fighting about
angry about
happy about
excited about. . .
worried about
just before we’d found our ships drifting
on the descending waves with greek names

before we even put a foot back on the floor
we’ve very likely failed

when it was codified into our sacred story
may not be entirely clear
but the weight of the f-word here
is a burden derived of the finest fiction

one can argue that merely existing
here, now
is a win

trite, certainly
and ineffectual to the competitive mind
incongruous to the aching body
barbed wire twisting around a tired heart

when existence is the casualty of
infernal, internal wars
merely existing
is at the root of the question:
what is the point of me… of all this?

we’ve swum the dark, turbulent waters for so long
the uneasy comfort
has lulled the senses into believing
that drowning
scarcity
lack
fear
struggle
suffering
is a normal thing

no.

the language has been contorted
bent and butchered
and because language speaks to our soul
we’ve listened
believed
chosen

and so therein can escape
or be reclaimed
the magic
and with it
the invigoration
inauguration
exculpation
of all the willing wanderers

all.

we’ve failed in interpretation
and perception, perhaps
for in making failure the enemy
we’ve denied only the integration
circled ’round the destination
and hidden the truth of us
in the details

solvitur ambulando