Saturday, March 12, 2016


I walk through the dead night into the flames of tomorrow,
Cringing past with only the weapon of hope in my hands,
It’s a plan, an idea waiting to materialize in form, with time,
The stage is to be set, layered with enthusiasm and energy,
As the emptiness casts a shadow of doubt intermittently,
Two paces forward, and then one back, sometimes it’s all square,
Slow and steady wins the race, but never against the clock,
Its hands faster than imagined, tracing the circle over and over again,
Lifting me to heights, but, only to fall?
A threshold to cling to, a parapet to balance myself on,
It’s a battle of minors, but for a prize so major,
Lined with laughter, interspersed by feuds, and with no sleep,
There are always reasons to push on, this time its coffee,
Mountains to move, new heights to scale,
Momentarily the single thought plaguing the mind,
My heart’s thudding so hard, racing along pleasantly,
I’m afraid of speed breakers, expecting the sound of screeching brakes,
Thankfully unheard, and the sighs echoing, with jubilant celebration,
It all comes together, at last, and so do the eyelids,
As I sink into the depths, with another fire to light, or to douse.

No comments:

Post a Comment