...And Release

With noon arrives:
A high sun
The event horizon
Of a life.

It's been strangling you anyhow,
Since birth,
From breath to breath

Each exhalation a reminder
Each inhalation a tension
Which could never go on.

Laughter in the loudest places
Midnight hours of who knows what
Washing out real purpose
In the extraneous
And uncertain.

But this is all periphery.

Do not go at night;
Even an immanent end cannot justify
That sort of sadness.

Go in the daytime,
Go under a high sun.

Make one last move
For balance
For peace

Perhaps it will not set -
You can never be sure.