Radioactive

There are those moments we have,

There is the good and there is the bad,

There are some that we savor,

And some we wish never happened,

There is calm, and then there is the storm,

There is the silence, and then just uproar,

And then there is light in the darkness,

It’s not about the color, nor is it about the vigor,

It’s all just radioactive.

There is the seen and there is the unseen,

There is love, and then there is a void wide,

It’s not the same ever, it’s different always,

The moments are varying with the tick of the clock,

There is a past so vivid, so dangerous in memory,

And then there is the future blurred and dreary,

It’s not about what is visible, and what passes without registering,

It’s all just radioactive.

There is a poem, and there is a poem,

There is literature, and then there is a story,

There is my story walking majestically past,

There is me and there is you,

Lines parallel yet crossing each other, intertwined,

There are those meetings, and then there are those fights,

There are the smiles and then there are the tears,

There are the coy hugs and then there are the pushes away,

There is the world and then there is us,

And we are radioactive.