The Ending

I fell asleep in the sun,
Warm air held me
Safe, relaxed, contentedly dreaming
It may have been years before I woke
Woke to this time where the shift now
Blares, at a rampant pace.

Who was I in that decade-long nap?
Underscoring the worth of self
And it is not so much that I neglected
As I chose to prefer the needs of the beloved.
I gave enough to recover from,
Day after day, happy- even, to have
Parceled out inner consolation

I traded moments of long rest
With the rushed flick of an elbow
Clicking around the blurred boundaries 
Of the dark.
Motioning this tired right wrist
To maneuver about the soft strokes
Of hushed and silent inspiration;
Coagulated ambition
Blocking the glut of production
The robbing of what would have been right
Quantified by the payment of understanding.

This judgement of self is brash, unacceptable
In time I've come to know this,
In more time, I'll come to know it better
Having already begun the cumbersome process
Of forgiveness of the now- If I live long enough...

TS Eliot's garden, brimming with regret
Lautrec's wasted grease, lost in drink
The closeted sexual perfection of EE Cummings-
'Cum on, with a name like that...?
What have I learned from these poignantly controlled brothers' of mine?
To tighten my seclusion, choking more oxygen?

Fuckin' idiot.
Best do some living, before the ending kills itself.