I can live.

Held away and stolen from an affair.

I was given time to trace the romance.

Could she feel my pensiveness?

Questions arrived with the beckoning of a blue jay.

Personal insight was not my best feature at the time.

But the fog had ceased without rebellion.

I had changed.

Without the desire to chase her uncertainty,

I had been awarded the shrill of a Jay.

“Slow down!” cried the jay, “Look!”

From that day, I can glance back.

I can see into my present.

When the fog drifts in, a breeze of insight is there.

I will not be afraid to follow the flow of my purpose.

I can live.

And I can live without her scoff for the errors in my wake.

The future is my purpose.

Let it be humbled by the Jay.