Anaverse for this February Twenty-ninth
Four years have passed
since the day that never was and
I find myself here again,
in this unwanted moment,
this day that never belonged,
this February Twenty-ninth
I was running that year
full strength, head strong
hurtling right off the edge
where I remain, still.
Sick now, pained now,
wearied soul, and forlorn
over empty space where I remain, still.
No sign from above has appeared
to save me though many below bludgeon and harass.
I am lost
but I still hold my ground.
Here is where I hold my ground
and here is where I make my stand
for her my beloved,
for the hand of my beloved.
Here has been, and is, my leap of faith,
caught in between, caught in the middle,
on this day so-called,
this February Twenty-ninth.