Shard#14: BOTH

Cal W. Stannard
2 min readMar 29, 2023

My life is a rocket ship, flying through space
Unmanned, low power, intergalactic waste
Hurtling silently through the yawning vacuum
Lights out, comms down, lost

My spirit is a tape recording, captured long ago
The picture is familiar but static breaks the flow
It ends; is rewound and plays again
The tape unspools, disintegrates, dust

My grief is a concerto, playing through the night
The conductor unseen but guiding from the sides
Strings swell but never reach a crescendo
Tension builds and builds then holds, still

My legacy is her; my beautiful child
One day she’ll know why, we’ll be reconciled
Our love was bigger than I could bear
The distance just made it grow

I will dance around the words saying everything else
I will sob once you’ve left when I’m here by myself
I will drive too fast when your car seat is empty
I will hold it together, til next week

Recovery, recovery
Each day the word means less to me
Time doesn’t heal it just increases in mass
On my shoulders every step home

Am I dreaming now or was I dreaming then?
Both can’t be equally true
So tell me, do I wake up now or sleep again
To arrive back at home with you

When that pendulum swings, I know that she knows:
Half my heart’s better than the next man’s whole
So I give her all I’ve got while I still have time
Hiding inside, buried deep

I’ve distracted with allegory, sleight of hand
Subverting with rhyme schemes, I guess I still am
Don’t ask for the truth when the story is sweeter
No one can do what I do

You can’t kill me I have no life to lose
You don’t know me you see what you choose
I cannot be held, like vapour in air
Blow me out in the cold

I can outrun them all with my face to the wind
With sweat in my eyes, blood burning within
I’m my father’s son, the strong son of man
Nothing can stop the wheel

I see all from above like a bird of prey
I see life stretching out with meaningless pain
I see where you’re headed but I will not save
I see the chaos, and blink

Cruelty, cruelty
It’s permeating outwardly
The guidelines I knew have burst into flames
Take me with the fire

Am I dreaming now or was I dreaming then?
Both can’t be equally true
Please tell me this here is the nightmare, my love
For my waking is so past due

--

--

Cal W. Stannard

I write short stories, lyrics without songs, talk about music and mental health and share photography. “I speak that ugly elegant”