Perhaps

if you can't make your mind up, we'll never get started.

Perhaps, perhaps, perrrrr-haps.
I hear the trumpet wailing its sad reverie
At the end of the song
With that purring perhaps
That lingers beats after the stanza is done.

You only tell me,
Perhaps,
Perhaps,
Perhaps.

Noncommittal 
And unsatisfactory,
Perhaps.

It’s the lingering possibility
Toyed out as a tool of loyalty,
Perhaps.

There is enjoyment,
Perhaps.

There is wealth,
Perhaps.

There is light,
Perhaps.

It’s my fault or yours or theirs,
Perhaps.

Whatever it is you need
You want,
You lust or long for,
Perhaps.

A child asks for dessert.
Perhaps.

Today will improve upon yesterday.
Perhaps.

Devilish little perhaps-es
Roping me into possibilities
Just beyond plausible
But far from certainty,
Dreams that seem grounded,
Perhaps.

Perhaps that’s the point: 
To linger in the not have possibility of having
Before being spoiled by the hadding
Or the never had.

There is hope, perhaps.
But perhaps, hope isn’t.
No,
Hope is not perhaps.
Hope is free from perhaps.
There is no perhaps to hope.
Hope is certain of the uncertain.
It speaks the impossible possibility:

Hope brings freedom
Where perhaps enslaves.

Hope is the has that hasn’t
Where perhaps is the hasn’t that may.

Perhaps lingers its purr past the last
Blasts of trumpet, inconclusive.
Hope, at least,
In spite of all things,
Concludes with certainty.


In wordy wordiness,

Walter