Well Known, But Ignored Things V. I Poem by Vergil Tsubasa

We can only ‘waste' so much time before we realize that it's something we have never done

You can only waste so much time, but time shouldn't be defined by dust flying around the sun

And everyone's little white promises float into the sky to become the clouds

and only when, now and then, we find they've broken up again

do they get heavy enough to fall back down

ambivalent tears which feed the ground

but, sure enough, they find their way and flowers bloom as if to say

here we are, we're never gone, we're something else, but it's beautiful

just waking up on your front lawn, sure enough, reaching up again

and bursting open to imitate the sun that we could never reach

it would burn us all away

and we treat that beauty like a silhouette - we cannot know what, but only where it is

So we've made it less than that; a quiet muse easy to forget

like myself as a little boy, with messy hair and corduroy

laying in the grass on our old front lawn with the colorful promises
that are never gone

reaching up at the sky, though I was too young to understand why

and I could smile at the petals before they'd wilt and become something else

like me, as a young boy, with long hair and a soldier toy

whose armies march only to the hero's drum

because back then, I was too young

and undefined

by promises, misty like the fog in my old home town

running on the beach, in the pouring rain

remembering a name, when I turned around

to see the footprints were all mine

and mine alone

and it made me grow up so fast, shame youth never seems to last

but nothing is a waste of time

not that we see this though, like beauty; like the silhouette

Like a boy too quiet to forget

Watching the clouds he didn't own brush through the sky

through branches swaying in the wind, on their front lawn

not thinking that they'll soon be gone

because eventually, now or then,

when they've somehow broken down again

each boy gets heavy enough to fall into the ground

and choose not to make another sound

but, sure enough, he'll find his way, and flowers bloom as if to say

here I am. I'm never gone.

I'm something else, but it's beautiful.

just holding out for a new dawn, sure enough, reaching up again

and bursting open like the sun I once came from

until the little white scars all burn away

until the little bright stars all shine the way

and the mind is quiet again

and the clouds all clear

and it's okay that in short years

the few that knew all dried their tears

and couldn't let themselves ever know

a lifetime like a flake of snow

just one in a snowstorm to melt like any other

and feed into the coming Spring

with every flower it will bring

amidst the well known but ignored things

like me, as a young man, just doing everything he can

who knows he hasn't made it yet

so much contemplated, yet still so easy to forget

like the beauty of a silhouette

hiding from their flashy cars and cloud-promise rings

among the well known but ignored things