amber

alarm clocks and rippled sunshine invade the defiled sanctuary of silence, sheets and dreamscapes as another day begins with the ending of dreams and restless sleep as the mind encased in the cloudy head tries to process a reeling line of memories, fantasies, regrets and ambitions and packages it into an episode of late-night cable proportions
that is not interrupted by commercials but rather by the ebb and flow of a flickering consciousness and the routine intermission of a twilight porcelain trip as one chamber is freed from the burdens laid upon it by the round of ale that did flow hours before into the pint of polished glass, a pint that was born from the heat of a glass forge fashioned by flames into its shape so that it could house the age old nectar to some and poison to others but that cannot hope to dull the flame of my emotion but only temporarily reinforce the fragile glass of my own self perception
amber is grasped as a friend by one, clutched as a reluctant lover by another as both men sit upon islands identical in their structure but opposite in the journeys upon which they find themselves embarking a journey that is joy to one and jade to another as the former rides the high of doubtlessly hasty yet decadently heavenly decisions that the other had at one time experienced but resolvedly resigned from his fate in order to begin again and tonight wonders to no one in particular if it is a journey he would embark on again if one could return the sand to the hourglass the way amber seems to always find her way back to grasping friends and reluctant lovers