Again

I.

Again, in the air and weightless, 
a popcorn cloud lollygagging 
towards underdetermine destiny – 
or is it predefined chance? No matter,
my collisions these days are happenstance
if by happy chance
and its sort of neat, 
neat like sealed letters to be dropped in the mail,
to think of you out there somewhere
and me right here
and the… serendipity? that awaits.

II.

Again, in the ground and weighted down,
a sunken vessel of guilt never exhumed
like a coffin rotting from mindful neglect –
or is it unconscious Nature? No matter, 
my paralysis these days is self-induced 
from thoughts of those
no longer loved,
loved like potable water to the parched and desperate,
but my heart is easily quenched 
and I am anywhere but here
as my… wanderlust? that propels.

III.

Again, in the black hole and nothing,
a gripping void of all consuming space,
like anti-matter crushing light into bleak darkness –
or is it something else? This matters,
for the end of my days is everyday 
one day closer
and if there’s something,
something like the world of clouds and vessels,
then I don’t want to be in that limbo alone
unless I’m anywhere and everywhere
and with… everyone? that dreams.