Some days my words are dark;
here on these hollowed pages i write.
There exists despair and heartache in all of our lives
and i script mine,
when the mood fits.
Depression follows my wobbly gait
as a tail follows a dog.
I wake and see "things",
things i can not describe,
full of light and wonder.
Then i ask where the darkness went
and why it was here at all.
Shadows are following me,
but not those of dark and despair...
I think they are angels,
for they are bright and bring hope to me.
On the edge of my sight,
they appear,
but when i turn they are gone.
This gives me wonder
and i ask who they are.
There is no answer,
but they appear again,
like in a game of hide and seek.
Time is not endless,
but some days, it seems so.
4 comments:
perhaps time is not endless but only our time in it in this form. as difficult as that can be, we must nurture our gratitude for it too. it`s what gives our lives beauty, value))))and finally, peace)))
xo
erin
(as i was reading this i swore i`d read it before at the hand of another poet)
I too would script mine but my own tears cloud my vision.
Hi Joe - your deep and wise and honest and give pause to this reader. Your images-visions are glorious, perhaps unsettling but I lean to glorious. And in regards to time? It is a mystery - an entity that can stand still, move swiftly and catch up to us and leave us behind. Fascinating.
Love you man
Gail
peace.....
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