the turn around

alas at last
we come to the culmination
of this most wretched odyssey

ascending here
to a stillness
relinquishing the reins into reflection

nothing but
the fact that we are done
left to breathe our bated breaths

the sag
where judgment does not lift its head
raises neither rifts nor ruin

no surging beams of light
no grand gesture of massive
applause or sinking wall of disapproval

just one brain
fizzling out into sheets far too nice
for dirt in a hole in an ancient fair ground

where did the rest go
never quite hit the mark
just tired of walking now

i’d rather others
have their time to climb all the way
up and then trudge it back down

to the turn around
the breath
the cold unfinished

end alas at last
the end there
was love.