Pinnings

They fall for me when I am up

When I am a whirling rapturous thing

A dream they can cling to upon waking

A whispered sense in their depths that suggests

Magic is a thing

That could actually exist

An implied but unspoken promise

Dripping with what might be

Seductive candy coated insinuations

Of things to come

They yearn for something

That can't be pinned down

Or neatly stored in small keepsake boxes

A life outside of the chaste treasured totems

In scrapbooks and photo albums

They want to be brought to flame

For something that inverts their insides

And redeems them

Of their acceptance

Absolves them of settling

And of their resignation

Under the weight of could have beens

But a map is not a doorway

And I am not Atlas

So there will be times

When the world is to much to bear

And I won't have enough light

To ignite the stars

So when reality crashes in

In it's inevitable rising tide  

Carrying routine and disappointment

Rhythm and rote

Then even the afterimage will fade

And in the end they leave me

when I am down