and in the end

there is seldom clarity

in a dream.

or in a day

for that matter. what it all

means

is elusive.

confusing. each day a mystery

of what went down.

the turns.

the words said, or gone unsaid.

the coming and going

of so many.

in the end

i see myself lying there

in bed, surrounded by those

still left,

and asking, what the hell

was that all about.