Watch the Cars Go by, the Frontier on my Heart.

We are two distinct priorities,
distinguished by the terms. we
can touch a solidarity, unique
only in the applications. There
is fiery desire, there is old and

ancient tenderness. there is sun
and rain and fire and ice. But,
then there is a silence; little
discrepancies popping up like
flowers in fields of fading grass.

there are questions flowing forth
from wells of insecurity, and a
voice, all strangely accented that
tells us of our failure as loudly
as the call to succeed. We are

parallel lines, moving in opposite
directions. down is simple, given
gravity and the eternal weight of
our laziness. but upwards, we
travel encumbered, heavy with

ourselves, all fallen and filtered,
fighting against currents of years
and youthful euphoria. we swim
like migrating salmon towards a
light we do not recognize with our

eyes. our soul feels it entirely. we
know it in its details and we thirst
with drying tongues to taste just a
drop of its torrential, down pouring
rain. then, in cataclysmic surrender,

we find rest; rest we were created for.