if I pass away in some foreign field
sun burnt white back bones
the brittle stations of the cross
civilisations like bones
… turn to dust
who will know to come and mourn?
if they knew, would they?
eulogy or legacy
what remains
.. other than another day
as the worlds falls apart
the strings are pulled
it all unravels, at the end
I can’t leave, but eventually I will
just passing through
all paths eventually arrive at the same destination whatever one’s station be it the cross or another unity at the end playing fields are levelled for in death all are equal paths of glory or despair all lead to death none can transcend or escape the level playing field
delicate filigree entwining enticing, ensnaring woven webs capturing beauty created by the unknown what lies in the voids the spaces between threads what could be isn’t there or is it the mystery of the unknown …… just imagine
looking back, I gaze at a red and broken past around my feet lies the present an uncertain yet clear future lies before surrounded by pain time spent with the dead and dying understanding death at times comes easier than conversing with the living contemplation brings a deeper appreciation of life all I want my epitaph to be is not confusion, but ….. “just trying to leave someone alive”
it’s a mystery to me how it commences only the wind remembers from whence it came and where it goes yet we wish on it with dandelions in bloom will the wind ever remember that wish it blows on its way for at the end of the day all for that we yearn is to be remembered by name at days end when the clouds lift light will breakthrough yet the wind will not look back but …. what of us, should we
time passes as the river flows from whence it comes to where it goes cutting a pathway leaving scars in its wake once passed we cannot return in the beginning from birth forced through cracks from a trickle great steams grow going with the flow as time passes great rivers are master sculptors seeking new horizons forging into the unknown until at days end all rivers merge no second chances all the while time passes
a forest of thoughts with pathways of grit bordered by the ageless unbending, yet graceful willow trees waving me on effortlessly with the wind of yesteryear I traverse the pathways crushing fear underfoot grittily determined to endure with grace as my companion and pockets full of pebbles slowly being ground into the gritty sands of time
pebbles in my pocket line in the sand make that stand as you search for closure draw that line standing strong and resolute on a pebble strewn beach digging deep until you find them all then… facing what awaits gazing boldly and contemptuously at that which dares to cross that line
rolling highways of aging steel spikes of steel arching upwards stretching from here to wherever even possibly infinity remnants of a life discarded frantically clinging to rusted spikes as the blustery wind plucks and rips desperately trying to set them free these cast aside fragments finally break free to fly but only to be caught by yet another highway of steel which proceeds to agonisingly shred, rip, tear more of its life away right down to the marrow
take the old, and make it new paper over the pain although the cracks still let the love in as the master said the world changes as we learn to make it new I’ll still care for you let’s use what we got make do and make new love is there for others too but for you my love will always linger
