Shadows grow long as the days disappear,
The reversal of time heeds its call.
Cold dark nights are upon us,
Each lovers embrace a stark reminder of what once was.
Passing silently in each others arms,
The warmth of yesterday fades into the glowing embers
And the wispy grey ashes of every lost love and the memories shared.
With time diverted and memories now deferred, the hope of tomorrow
Brings the promise of new life, new love and a warm embrace.
To see what I see
Frequent and far reaching delusions spread through time
From the carnival barkers dais.
Lies penetrate the forgotten soul,
Sweeping through the barren wasteland of the mind,
Tortured senses beaten down by an incessant silky haze of
Memories…best…kept…hidden.
The air is cool as the leaves fall gently to the ground. Silhouetted against the icy blue sky, the mind heads south, trying to escape the wrath of the coming winter.
Summer tries to hold on, providing false hope to all.
Still, the scent of icy inevitability urges us on, a reminder that time, in its cyclical beauty and in alignment with each season, can not be counted on to preserve the past.
But the past continues to dominate, caressing each memory, changing them to align with our reality, making the unpredictably of life what sustains life.
After the fog has lifted, and after the skies have cleared,
the cool wind, in its infinite simplicity, sweeps in and pushes the pain away.
Floating on the breeze, memories weave in and out, each one maneuvering itself and
fighting for domininace in the dark void of an otherwise bottomless abyss.
Crawling, reaching, crying-each tear shed burns the eye, searing through the milky
lens that protects us from ourselves.
The inner sanctuary, compromised and corrupted, still holds the promise of an existence
worth living, despite a stream of consciousness that otherwise tries to silence us.
We travel through life hoping that time won’t move.
Always hoping that it will stand still with the steely determination of a Marine standing guard.
But it doesn’t.
Days, months and years spent living, mystifyingly chained to the fixtures of life itself, not paying attention to the ticking clock.
Yet time marches on.
Family and friends pass, reunited with the earth, silenced by time, remembered briefly and then forgotten like the sting of a bee soothed by cold cubed ice.
We move on, masking our sadness with memories, perceived and real, that are tattooed in our minds.
Time begins to take over, the memories that once held us up now falter and fade, our own timeless progression now becomes the enemy.
We then pass and that memory will hold another up until time catches up with them.
The Zen Hiker 