Somewhere, out in the endless west, is love: 
Strong like the mountains, beautiful like the autumn, 
But distant, untouchable, a dream. 

We are creatures of water, made to go through, 
But never around. When you live in the water, 
You never "get over it", you "go through it", 
And that is us.

Dreams may connect us to a greater reality, 
Or, perhaps, a greater escape than our reality allows: 
It is love that always connects us to the greater, 
Even if in feeling it, we are somehow lesser.

There was a day when I let go: I watched 
The love I had poured out evaporate and turn into clouds 
That floated over the strong mountains, 
Lovely, but almost the last thing you would notice. 

They had told me I would never understand what love was 
Until I became what I became; 
All these years later, I would only add that 
I never really knew what despair and emptiness were, either, 
And that is far less advertised part of the bargain.

Somewhere in a west beyond the real west, is love: 
When I let go of it, I didn't, really, and couldn't. 

(Timed write – 13 minutes. More from the NanoPoblano squad can be found here.)