Unsettling Straits.

A fortnight now, perhaps the least of expected steps he's ever taken; means a ton to him. A reset.

He'd watch the skies for a sign, he saw the sparrows skim beneath the hot summer breeze; unrelenting heat waves bearing down on forlorn pieces shattered by man and time.

Today is that day he decided to take stock; not of the time, but of the weight that it imbues. His shoulders set straight, a vast sea of unknowns lies before him, it's a familiar but far off feeling.. Everything is working like a cog, familiar feels. Takes the mind of the edge.

He has a permanent recollection of what the past has done to him; he's learned that, acceptance comes from within.. the bit where one is left on their own, to fend for themselves albeit with a watchful eye hovering above every step he makes.

He believes, he yawns... Time's not been kind.

Unsettled but definitely at peace. What was spoken in ages gone by, so be it. Acceptance.

Finding joy, finding peace, gaining perspective and mostly rising from the ashes.

A reset. He won't forget. You swooped in at the crack of dawn, and stole an ancient blessing. Then backed out. It will hit home: One day at a time.

In his mind, Michael Holloway Belts a piece called The Forlorn Heart

Alone in the company of myself

How the walls seem ghostly quiet

Thoughts drift to a romance broken

The girl that never was or could not be

Stay my tongue lest I speak ill of love

The words of a broken heart are fierce

And sharp as any blade ever known

Cutting into the depths of the soul

The silence of the night haunting

And I alone mourn my own heart

What love, what girl I shall not name

For it pains to speak such words

And these walls, empty as they are

Have become my tomb, farewell love

Alone with a broken heart I yield

That which I was never to know

Were I a greater man than I

How would my own company stand

Would I know it alone at all

Would I know these ghostly walls

As I know too well my heart

My loves sad quiet demise

The forlorn heart exists

Where there is only myself and I

A subscript of an equation that is not collectively exhaustive. Time tells many Tells.

Memoirs #1 of Peszt.

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