Yet is weird,

Like ying and yang.

It can lead the way,

Or trail off at the end...

And yet...

It can resonate with hope,

Or impending disaster,

In either path it takes.

Yet there is more...

Connotations of things to come,

Or things that will idly be put off.

A variety of instances,

And circumstance,

Depending on tone and expectations.

Quite a range of complexity,

Sometimes even sounding proper,

Yet a simple, little word.

There’s something I’ve been meaning to do,

Places I’ve wanted to see,

Friends I’ve longed to visit with,

Dreams I’ve hoped to accomplish

But, of course, it can always wait

Until tomorrow

I haven’t done this yet

I haven’t done that yet

I haven’t talked to them yet

I haven’t dreamt it yet

Yet is merely a word

Barring you from fulfilling the goals

You could’ve accomplished today,

Always postponing them

To the next tomorrow

Eventually, there won’t be

Another tomorrow to look to

So get out there

And do everything you’ve wished

You’re not done

With life yet

You’re tucked in the seam

Yester’ dreams of my heart

You lie in the shadows

Your light, spilling dark

You’re hid in my chest

You’re the lock and key

Yet, someday, soon,

Yet, you’ll be

″ This heart,

longing for you

breaks to a thousand pieces —

I wouldn’t lose one. ”

(yet._)

-

-

the sunlight spills through the window as the day arrives. it covers his sleeping face in a golden shimmer. he wakes up in gasps and trembles, with hollowed eyes that burn from the bright sunlight. his heart hammers in his chest and he can’t feel the warmth of the day, he is too cold and too broken.

and for once, just this day he lets the tears pour out and mourns.

-

his steps are slower as if they hold weights (and oh how they do.) as he walks through his day. each step rings hollow. and he can’t feel anything but the keen awareness of emptiness that is the shape that nothing can fill. a shape of a person with smiles and a big heart. everything else feels like ghosts and he can’t focus on anything else. he phases through his day with an absent face, his eyes following echoes of memories that clatter like an eerie knock.

then there’s a familiar voice that calls out to him. a voice that hisses his name with hate. and the reaction is instinct. his face twists and hate boils, his head snaps and his dark eyes meet green.

silence.

and suddenly, his world is filled in a screaming lava that boils.

-

it’s a dance

-

″Arthur.” he spits out with venom. and his dark eyes hold green eyes.

″Wesley.” Arthur returns with equally hate.

the air is heavy and tense between them.

″what do you want?” he asks. ”i don’t have time for your ugly mut today”

there is silence as Arthur’s green eyes hold his. and for moment he thinks there is a flater in Arthur’s twisted anger face-- a crack. vunerablity. but, but that can’t be right. no. that’s not how the story goes.

but before he can grasp the flicker of emotion and figure it out, Arthur snaps away.

-

it is only when Wesley also turns away and the raging anger shimmers away that he realises he forgot her. again.

he pushes the thought away buries under like everything else.

(like he can ignore how the empty hole in his heart, of her, is easily filled)

(like he can ignore the way he can not ignore the crack in Arthur face. the raw emotion)

(he hates him. that’s how the story should be)

(yet._)

-

it’s a dance in the dark silence

-

before he knows the day bleeds to darkness and night falls. it’s raining again like every June 5th. there is ache in his eyes, an itch beneath his skin and each step feels like he’s treading through the mud. and just for this one day that comes once each year in summer, he lets himself fall, lets the rain drench him. lets himself soak into the nightmares that spill in front him like an eerie red carpet. he follows them down the silent path around the park to the graveyard. he takes each step letting the shadows of the trees hide his form-- just for this one day, he welcomes the darkness and let it cover him, drowns in it-- and when he enters the graveyard, something makes him stop. --someone. a man. Arthur.

-

sometimes there is someone or people here, that’s a grantee this is a public graveyard. but he knows this person, that man. hates him with each breath he takes, with each pulse that beats in him.

because that’s how the story should be.

yet.

-

Arthur is standing in the rain, his shoulders dipped foward as he looks outwards- dark green eyes glinting like poison in the darkness.

and Wesley thinks back to later in the day... to that crack Arthur’s face...

(he saw that expression before. many times. that raw vunerable emotion. the slight down tilt of the eyes. the subtle burrow of eyebrows. the regret carved in the edge of a smile. like you are caught in happy memories that leaves echoes of ringing knocks that pains)

-

there is ache in his eyes, an itch beneath his skin, a hollow ring in his heartbeat and he slips into the darkness of the graveyard and phases past Arthur. their shoulders brush past.

and for once, just this day there is silence between them.

and in the pouring rain, in the darkness of the night - for a brief moment - green eyes meet black.

-

it’s a dance in dark silence the steps not in synch and the distance too large

yet

-

-

the sunlight spills through the window as the day arrives, it covers his sleeping face in a golden shimmer. he wakes up in gasps and trembles, with hollowed eyes that burn from the bright sunlight. his heart hammers in his chest and he can’t feel the warmth of the day, he is too cold and too broken.

but he gets up with no moment wasted, forces the burning memories and feelings away, buries it under and starts his day.

-

his steps are lighter. his mind is more focussed on the present. the trail of his steps leave echoes of hollow rings. memories. but he shatters them, looks forward. looks at the present and buries everything under. and the past is echoes that he can’t hear.

-

and in the middle of his day, Wesley meets Arthur.

and the air turns heavy, tense.

and their world is filled in a screaming lava that boils.

and their voices hiss at each other dripping with venom.

(just like how the story should be)

(yet._)

-

when Wesley snaps to turn away, strums past

their shoulders brush past -

and for a brief moment -

black eyes meet green in silence.

-

-

it’s a dance in dark silence the steps not in synch and the distance too large

yet each step is in beats of three two one

yet each step is heavy and full of emotion

there is no music but the beats of their hearts in three two one that drowns the world in a screaming red

that meet and clang in a harsh sound that makes their ears bleed

and it is three two one

that stops for the fourth beat -

a pause. a memory. -

where their eye meet and --

for once there is synch. no distance —

just them.

understanding.

-

-

″ This heart,

longing for you

breaks to a thousand pieces —

I wouldn’t lose one. ”

( yet _ the pieces are lost. lost into parts of the foundations for this kingdom of lost souls. of clattering ghost memories. it becomes part of it and there — lost souls meet and brush past. and strive to move forward )

----------

* " ” is quoted from a poem by Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu.

Halfway through my freshman year of high school, our band director wrote "The Power of Yet" in large blue letters on the front whiteboard. It was met with laughter and within a day, the phrase was defaced with various jokes and gimmicks until the original letters were unrecognizable. With the persistence and patience only a high school teacher could have, the band director sighed and fixed it every time.

It was almost an entire week before he got around to explaining what it meant. "The Poo of Yeti" as it now read applied to a difficult piece in our set. Just thinking about it gave freshman flute me a headache with its fast tempo and neverending triplets.

"I know this piece is hard," he said with a calm cadence. "And many of you are saying, "We'll never get this" and we won't." Confused whispers ensued.

"Not yet."

I don't remember if we played that song well or if we never got past garbled garbage. What I do remember is seeing those letters sprawled across the board and the intense look in his eyes. At that moment, I didn't imagine those four words having such a profound impact on my mentality, but they did.

It wasn't a sudden shift; I didn't notice it until months later. But every time I came across a hard task, a difficult math problem, a lack of artistic ability, a gap in skill, any moment where I told myself I couldn't, a small part of my mind echoed his words.

"Not yet."

So I kept practicing, kept studying, kept at it. I drew every day and kept getting better. I practiced shots and drills and became starting line-up in varsity. I finally took my instrument home to practice and soon became first chair. I took harder classes and studied even harder. I became the person I always wanted to be all because I realized I wouldn't get there unless I tried.

You're not the best you can be...not yet.

How misunderstood

And mis-used

Is the word Yet.

It’s power is boundless.

It sets no limits.

Yet, few can see this power

In the word Yet.

It denies failure

And promotes hope

And equality.

Can you touch the stars?

Not Yet.

Have you been to Mars?

Not Yet.

Is everybody equal?

Not Yet

Have you read the sequel?

Not Yet.

The word is a door to the Yet to be achieved,

Acknowledging all possibilities.

Everything is do-able

And all things will come to pass.

Just

Not Yet.

Yet, yet, yet. All we know is "yet." No, "right now." No "Today". Just "wait for it, it hasn't come yet." Just "You aren't old enough yet." Just "You haven't gotten the proper training" (or whatever) "yet." Yet, yet, yet.

Why can't it come today? Why can't we be ready now? Why do we have to meet certain requirements?

Yet is saying that we need time or need to go through a process or we need to be up to standards. Yet means we aren't ready. Yet means the thing we need isn't ready. D:< IS NOTHING READY?! GRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! DX<

Full of promise, yet full of deceit. The word yet can be used as an enhancer to change a happy sentence into a tear jerker, but can also change a tearjerker into a happy statement. Yet is a powerful word of opportunities, allowing sentences the possibility to open up and contradict itself to change the emotion behind a line, and yet, it stays fairly underused.