There is scant light on this stormy

morning. No dawn has edged on

that blind horizon that seems to

break the starry reflection 

in monstrous swells, and foamy crests.

There was no destination planned,

a tiresome task to run away,

to find some new world for my

eyes to single out purpose, or excitement,

yet, in a fortnight, I’d forgotten.

I lost my way in open sea, and searched

for that flash, that glimmer, that

ends itself and repeats.

The constellations are my only

companions, no rowdy crew to drown

my introspection, and my small

vessel, little more than a raft,  

tosses back and forth, a

thrall to antipathic nightmare.

Without an inkling of 

the nearest land, at the mercy of

the tempestuous sea, 

there is no beacon of lighthouse,

no sanctuary, nor prayers

uttered for me.

Blue but not Depressed

He says depression takes too much commitment, and he doesn’t feel it
is long-term.
Blue is simply sad for a moment, knowing that at every sunrise,
hidden just under that pinkish horizon,
dancing in the vanishing point, is hope.
Dawn of a new day in every morning,
in hot coffee and running shoes, a humble acceptance that feelings are just temporary.

He’s found joy in running hard again
with his spirited Australian Shepherd,
he feels thirty again,
and I can’t say I blame him.
To quit anything you love for any length of time,
even for the sake of saving knees, is depressing, so coming back must feel
like finding an old friend.

Finding that inner-joy in doing something that he used to do all the time, and he remembers good ol’ days, the laughter, the stories, and the pranks,
but instead of hiding in Mauldin,
he honors that memory with running
carrying his friends in his mind,
and dog treats in his pockets.

Not knowing the impact he has on me, he goes about his day,
never guessing that he has inspired me so much that I have begun to run again.
Now it is my turn to be non-commital,
and shed the weight of my depression.
It is time to reach within myself,
and cast away my shackles, running free.