A lifetime spent looking back, but always waiting for tomorrow.
The hope of tomorrow, the promise of tomorrow.
We sell our souls for tomorrow.
Tomorrow
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Tag Archives: poetry
Perchance to Dream
Subconscious delight
Dreams await sleeps fine rhythm
Seeking to act, sooth
Breaking through the murk and mist
Of mindful diligence and unconditional cerebral salvation
What if…
Cessation of time
Marching forward through burning
Embers of a soul
Unleashed in its madness
To see the truth of what if…
The Beauty of Change
Walking in beauty
Small footprints on Autumn’s steps
Eyes, open and wide
Tasting each moment as if
We had never existed.
The Gentle Slumber of Rain
Rain
Slowly Falls
Voices in the hall
Heard as the comfort of sleep
Approaches, the not knowing
A gift to cherish
Forever
Peace
Cinquain-1, 3, 5, 7, 7, 5, 3, 1
Keep Living
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.
A Time of Change
Thoughts of fall, the colors melting as falling leaves spread the residue of change across the landscape.
Shrouded in a fine myopic mist, the land lays waste to a slow death.
Wanting to hold on to precious life, the false hope of the future lasts until time reaches out and quietly asks it to return to the earth.
A Country Pond
A country pond, sitting serene under a cool blue sky, waits and wonders.
The surface, ripples forming in protest as the cool October breeze works its way across the quickly changing landscape, trees bowing and swaying in almost silent objection of the coming winter.
Soon, the placid surface, cold and lifeless, will carry the weight of the razors edge, pushing off and gliding in ever widening circles as the flakes of winter slowly fall.
A Lovers Embrace
I saw her last under the light of summers soft kiss.
Warm and inviting, her embrace was as comforting as it always had been.
Seeing her now, the embrace, although still present and soothing, was now noticeably cooler.
Regardless, my love still flowed freely like water cascading into a calm sea
and the anticipation of the future made me smile.
Memories
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.
The Zen Hiker 