blurred perspective: loneliness or beauty?

I  know.
I know some things.
I know I am incomplete
unfinished
in motion.

I know I have felt the way the world works
when there is a home base
that does not waver
and arms
that will always hold you.

I know I have felt the way the world works
when there is
nothing
but long nights
lips laying on each other and not
another's
locking language inside
instead of locking together

I know the quiet moments
of silent screams and tears that stream
volcanic liquid searing not one single mark
on faces that deserve rivulets

I don't know where I am
I am sure I don't know where
I am going
I'm not even sure where I have been

I know that there are moments that
have stuck to me
like glitter on your leg
that you never meant
to hold onto
and instead of letting
these oddly formed annoyances
made of magic meaningless sparkles
flake off one spot
to stick
to another
you flick at them and they
persist
like lifting up lost but
tangible memories
from a life no longer yours, yet still stuck
to you, where you are now
with no visible connection
just
there, statically electric

so I leave the sparkle,
reach for a place where things matter
and connect
and still, the focus is off enough
to make me wonder

perhaps I have become
the lens of a camera
with the focus broken
and unbalanced

I'm sure there is still beauty
in those furry, fuzzy moments
but how can you decide any forward motion
when things are so balefully blurred?

you just might know what you
are seeing.  Unless
you don't

and either way
it
is
frightening


In which case
the path remains the same
as the choices are so few

and you walk
with a backpack full
of questions and fears
a woman alone across a river, empty hands
a sultry sunset scene surrounded by fertile lands
and untwined fingers
bare feet
skirt swaying in the breeze mysterious
and silent

I she searching?  Running?  ending or starting?

So much is about perspective...