It’s not a phantom sadness
because I know its name
and where it lives.
I know the mood that conjures it,
the temporal passages
it favors.
No, this is a sadness
that inhabits me by now;
sometimes it stays small
in a pocket,
a piece of lint I needn’t notice.
Then other times it covers me
inside, then out
looms like a fog, like smog
that doesn’t lift
easily.
Not a phantom sadness
by any means
Rather, a steadfast messenger
always prone to remind me
this life is neither short nor long
but chosen,
chosen.
Beautiful.
“Steadfast messenger”…perfect. Thank you