sometimes

[cacian]

sometimes when nothing seems to go for you,
you feel you have to turn around,
you want
to run to something
past,
you yearn
to trace
a speech,
a line,
a number rang,
a song perhaps.

the present is
slipping away,
your fingers
tighten
to try
and cling
onto a draft,
it feels so light
yet
cold and brash,
it runs through you
swiflty and fast.

the present is,
blowing away
pages of words
a language can
no longer fit.
fingers detach
the weight is harsh
meaning of now
has further passed.

sometimes when
wind
whistles
at nights,
it feels so right
it chants a tune,
melodic lune.

sometimes when
down is kept aloof,
solo, empty,
tired and full,
a new dawn
comes out in
bloom to say
going up is,
the only way.