like good in deja vu

i wake up. i thirst for what i want to last. 

i cannot find it except for fleeting moments like deja vu of good that doesn't end. 

     i fight to make it keep, suck out each drop of its essence life, the joy, its juice. 

i freeze it in moment's time. i grip it hard with my mental strain. 

i force its last eternity though brief, history in time. 

i savor its feel, its sound, its taste, the very sight of it. 

but its feed predictably implodes, in an instant flash it's gone.

     i crave a soft glowing flame of candle's light, its dull ember, gently cloaks the rustic brownish cupboards, stools and table, diffused by walls and corner's lines. still and quiet by the hearth's stone of winter's fire. the cast iron stove, the stack of oaken wood. their scents fill the air. the silence fills the quiet. the quiet speaks overflows its fill of silence. goodness reigns in this solitude instilled, frozen in time. it does not move. i lay my head on its breast and rest. of this is what i want to last.

     my mind stares deep, away into the past. it rides on reels of streaming memory. 

i pause. 

i look. 

i freeze the frame, examine each detail minute. 

i see deep into the pixels of my imprinted memories. 

i run the reel normal speed and then restart. 

i hit slow motion, half speed and full, again and again and then re-loop until i fall fast asleep and start the stream of frames again. 

     i lay in quiet's stark repose. it soothes my broken heart. calms my rabid mind. it fills my heart with with meaning. it takes away my thirst.

     i stare into the dim lit cavern of my frontal lobe, my spirit's veiled screen. light comes in. Joy follows at her heels. i play the scenes over again. they come of themselves. 

     at times i edit and rewind, let myself get lost in the highs and the lows of the flows. me as a child. the roads i walked. the things i did. the good, the bad and the quiet. 

     i chose the quiet. i paid the price. 

     i thirst for what i want to last. i know it won't

     a man of a thousand sorrows, man of a million dreams, reflections, inspections. the passing of each moment i hyper-sense. i feel the ending of the spool, the thread, the final shot forever frozen in my mind before it comes. 

     the laughter and the joy are fleeting, do not last. overcome by push and shove, the greeds misdeeds, the constant strife. the temporal rest, the frigid loneliness, the pain, the unpredictable frames of reality, their vicious bites. their ambush attacks disturb the peace. unending unchecked. uninvited invades my sanctum place upon this planet place. i cannot escape it except for fleeting moments like deja vu of good it comes. i grab it, freeze it in its frame. won't let go. but it does.

     i must get up. resume the fight for what i want to last, like good in deja vu in frozen time and space.