The nights never lasted long enough.

A bit more of me for a while  
as I sit staring at the glass  
for the first time in two months  
knowing that its contents are mine.  
I am drenched with rain  
and insufferable company:  
The cantankerous and the repetitive  
all reek of booze  
that will never fill the hole,  
and with that I take my first sip.  
   
I think of finding god  
and beautiful steaks.  
Even the three ladies next to me  
are turned in to nothing,  
but I must move away from them;  
they are already a fraction of my focus.  
This is not about them  
or what they belong to.  
It is not about their jobs,  
their friends' weddings  
or their three hundred pound bracelets.  
With no shame of the ego  
this is entirely about me.  
   
...  
   
This corner is much quieter:  
The voices trickle together  
become foreign to me.  
The mind is allowed to dance  
with and without them simultaneously  
as a passing train silently makes itself known  
through my right forearm.  
I imagine a beautiful woman in lingerie  
showing plenty of leg  
laying across my table.  
She says nothing,  
but simply watches admiringly  
as piano music resonates.  
   
Allow me to become profound  
as I once did...  
   
...  
   
Life doesn't really roll towards an end,  
it is pushed onwards and against itself.  
Jobs, women, housing, pets, children, cars  
they will all absorb us  
until we stare at something without time.  
We are only the good side of ourselves  
in times of leisure  
unless we allow ourselves  
to becomes strangers to it.  
   
And so, I have to ask you  
'When was the last time  
you were nothing, but you?'  
   
With nothing expecting of you?  
No one expecting your words to comfort them?  
No child to care for?  
No job to wake up to?  
When did you last have nothing on the cards  
and no reason to contemplate filling that space  
with activity?  
When did you last sit down and breathe for a while?  
   
It might be a daunting idea,  
for others, an impossible concept,  
but for all of us... It is key.  
   
...  
   
Here I sit; nowhere to be  
no desire to speak to anyone  
and no desire to be heard.  
I close my eyes and enjoy the journey  
of a different path  
now that life can finally roll.  
I think warmly of everything  
for bringing me here.  
Even the fat man at the bar  
who can't help himself,  
but cripples my ear with meaningless woes  
for minutes on end  
without compassion.  
Even he has played a part,  
albeit unknowingly.  
   
The teacher who saw her saviour in me  
as I danced away from her  
towards this moment  
will hopefully realise, as she sits alone  
using the lighter that I left with her  
to ignite the cigarettes I once smoked with her,  
that every moment, no matter  
whether it feels too short  
too cruel  
too beautiful  
too intense  
too painful  
will eventually play its part  
as long as it is allowed.  
   
That is the test of the human soul:  
Can you allow yourself that moment  
during which everything is beautiful  
no matter what that everything is  
or has been?  
Can you sit like I do,  
having run, leapt, limped and torn  
through all of those previous days  
and find peace amidst the chaos?  
   
If your answer is yes, you've made it  
and life will flower around you.  
I raise this almost empty glass to you,  
your mind, and your understanding.  
   
You will terrify them  
as their presence fails to penetrate you.  
You will smile silently  
and with a radiance    
that will leave their nights  
sleepless.  
   
You have made it  
and there is everywhere left to go.  
So, to you my friends,  
you are the most beautiful things  
that I will never know.  
Salut.