Do not call me a liar – it suggests I may be aware of the truth – whatever it is
Do not call me honest – it suggests I can discriminate and I would not presume
Do not call me upright because often, I stoop to pull up my bootstraps
And do not call me noble for I conspired with time and space to bring that to naught.
Do not call me clean for I cannot be washed
Do not call me neat for there is much desolation in my habitat.
Do not shout my name at dawn for many might be offended.
Whisper it not in the hush of the dusk for the gentle wind might be in attendance
Do not think of me with fondness – I may not deliver your hopes
Do not remember me with sighs – I would not impose upon your moments
Do not ignore all that you have experienced of me especially the ecstasy and the pains
Do not abandon memories of your time under the stars with none but me for company
Do not use the colourful metaphors to describe me in the height of your anger and pain
And seek not to discredit me for dreams unfulfilled.
I am that which lives in the twinkling of your eyes. I dwell in the corner of your vision,
I inhabit the unlit crevices of your mind and enchant the flairs of your vanity.
I am that which never dies nor ever lived nor was ever mourned
I am that which laughs last and loudest with the pain and pleasure of a nonentity
Remember me if you must, but with a vacuum of thoughts as of snow in mid-summer
Think of me if you will but with a suspended breath as of an echo of shadows.
I am that which lounges on the drawing board.
An august project, conceived, born and stilled. Yet I thrive in the deep recesses of time and space.
Who am I?
A Catalyst. Your catalyst.
At some enchanted moment in time, I am that which lives with you. I am that which could have been.