The Swing of Things

How vague,
Life,
And those who live it
Running here
Driving there
Hearing this
Watching that
And doing other vague things
Some more…something…than others
I try to remember
The swing of things
As I take your hand
In its less-than-confident peer,
My own
And attempt to remember how to say
That one thing
And trying not to be vague
At the same time wondering
If here,
There,
Anywhere,
Is the time to be specific?
Back to the daily grind
Hitting the ground running
And sifting through the remaining grounds
Left from the coffee I refuse to turn to
For the one thing that might let me sleep
Knowing instead that this is impossible
As you dance through my head
Forever separating me from
The swing of things.
Wincing with fear and doubt
I release you,
Sending you flying back to the heavens
Where you so clearly belong
Praying that you will return
And smiling
Half a second later
When you do.
Is it because of gravity?
The mere fact that our hands still embrace?
Anything that I have done?
Or an attraction too fatal for my heart-not-blessed-with-a-healing-factor
To overcome?
Maybe it is that one thing
That I am too vague
To mention now
Maybe at some later point
Perhaps less vague…
For now I will remain a coward
Hiding behind a façade
A disguise,
A mask,
The pretense of something,
Anything
Any Thing
(You decide, I’m too vague).
As you spiral back towards me
I brace myself
For the impact that comes before a fall
Just like pride
And so many other things
Come before the fall
In the logical cliché world at least.
Again fear kicks in
Fear of abandonment
Brokenness
Something
And I hold you close
For perhaps a second longer
Than it would take
To be in the swing of things