Rapsody Rhetoric

I reached the edge - fim da terra - ends of the earth- known world.

This was only the threshold of my bedroom. My town. My state.

Of who I was. Long before two marriages and crossing an ocean.

Last week, a verge of a thought I wrote on paper with a pen that I can’t find the cap for.

Words thoughtfully scribbled. Saved.

Ruined by the days the pages sat next to me. Ignored.

Unapologetically.

Music.

That’s a good story.

Phrases, randomly convincing me that doodles, capital letters are full of sense.

No sense or singing are made from the yesterdays of yesterday’s words today.

Fitting.

Irony has left the show years ago.

No one replaced the witty banter.

I’ve left behind the once upon a times, remember who and when.

Aaron suggested - What if.

I said - What if we.

What if we what.

Wrote a letter - pen to paper - felt the press of fingertips against the cylinder of ink, as a palm smooths out the page.

Words press against words till the edge.

Of the page. Of the known world.

Push ourselves past fim da terra - ends of the earth.