Seven Augusts

Every August comes with a disclaimer, in each of the last seven years.
Each unique in the shifts it spawns, and
every instance comes with a price.

Only now can I decide differently, as
all yesterdays disclude wins and losses.
In all moments of the present day,
only the truest ambitions thrive.

 

Each eighth month, the number of luck and irony,

pain is inevitable, yet joy is my mission.

An addiction for putting my face through the clouds

tasting the newborn fog on my tongue just

to remind myself that I am alive and well.

Seven years felt like seven suns when searching

the history to discover the path forward.

 

In each August of every year I find a store of pain.

Be it pain in my heart, pain in another, pain in my universe

each year I find that there are lessons to be learned

that shake up my world and unsettle my mind.

Where are my bearings in this world of change?

All I can feel is that I'm being sent a message

and I'm trying to listen and trust that I'll know what it means.