In my mind I plan soliloquies
For potential situations that never quite arise
Inside my head these words resound
Quite brilliantly, as you should know
But it turns out my vision of the future sucks
I build constructs of things that never happen
Populate them with conversations that pop and spark
But in the event, it’s dark
So these words dissolve into the cesspool of my rejections
Providing nothing more than compost
For a future that seems to be impossible
But I keep on thinking
Sometimes dreaming
Of the words I’d like to say to you
Soliloquies and sonnets
Brilliant thoughts and hopeful longings
I dream them through
To the end of true
Waiting for an answer
That isn’t an echo
David Trudel © 2013