There are times
when we find ourselves
on colder than usual mornings
and the summer is supposedly
on its way.
But where’s the sun?
And there are times when we find
ourselves in front of the window
and watching the rain as it drizzles,
because plans changed
when the sky became gray,
and the world around us
is seemingly matching.
I know that the time
will eventually break
and soon enough,
the sun will be out
and like it was at the end of spring,
or this time last year;
the weather is bound
to be polite again.
I know there are times when hey,
there’s nothing left to be,
except crazy.
And the moments get stuck in your head,
which make it impossible
to see the light in front of us
or to understand that soon enough,
we will be back again,
the way it was,
only better.
Maybe this is just a revival
or like it is when spring comes.
And this is like a sign of rebirth,
the same as it is
with the leaves in the spring,
or the sprouts from the ground,
which only prove
that life is just moving in cycles.
These are the ebbs and flows
or highs and lows
and these are things
that exist for all of us.
Whereas,
some days will rise
where others will sink
but rest assured,
the two of us will always
be back again.
Just give it a minute.
I promise . . .
Just give it some time, and yes,
the sun will return
and the ocean behind Lincoln Road
will be warm again.
Sooner or later
the time has to break
and our eyes are bound to see clearly.
Sooner or later,
I know this will happen
because the sky can’t rain forever
nor can the sun be hidden
for too long.
Eventually,
the world has to turn
and you and I will
be where we ought to be.
And sometimes we worry
or wonder if it’s safe to feel
or to have hope again.
Or sometimes we wonder
or worry if we’re crazy
or not . . .
or maybe this has nothing to do with sanity
and all to do
with the fear
or the failure of loss
when in fact
all we want is to be whole
again.
But lo and behold
I swear that I am crazy.
I am crazy enough to believe that somehow,
my view and version of the world
will have the right to take over
and become what I dream,
which is why
I refuse
to let this go.
Even if I’m alone,
or seemingly so,
then at least I’ll know
when I’m home
again.
Sooner or later,
the rain will desist,
and the sun will return.
The streets will remember
what we haven’t forgotten
and they’ll allow us a clue
or show us a sign
to keep us believing in love
again.
I know that the mornings
were supposed to be warm
and the sun was supposed to be out.
I know that the rainfall
has soaked up the ground
and the streets have been flooded with worry.
I know that the gutters are leaking
from the tears in your rain
but someday,
I swear that we will be
warm and our life
will be dry from the rain.
Maybe I am crazy
Or maybe I just believe.
Or maybe it’s hope
or maybe it’s not;
and this is only a case
for the Saint of Lost causes
because my heart cannot take
life without you.
But sooner or later
I know this will break
and the beach will be there
to welcome us home.
. . . and with one last verse
I remember a morning
when there were kids on the beach
doing flips in the sand
and practicing cheers
like they would
for a competition . . .
I know that moment is lost
or gone
or kept in a basket
and held in a place
that fits in my heart.
And maybe
this was only a one-time thing
but when I think of this,
the beat in my heart
feels alive again.
So yes,
sooner or later
I know that we’ll be in a better place
where the sun will be warm
and mornings like this
will be behind us,
at last
and our hearts
will be free for us to love
again.
It’s not bad though,
to lay awake and think of you.
It’s not bad to think
or want you
or dream of your skin
because despite
how time has changed
or how things have happened
still — regardless of this,
if you call,
or cry,
or wish,
or need me
or want me
just the same . . .
You wouldn’t have to ask
because like the sun above the clouds
or regardless of if you see me or not,
I never left
and I am always here
waiting for the warmer days
and for you
to hold
and love me . . .
Again.
The Written Addiction 