if you’re reading this, and want different results; then start doing things differently. Let your work speak for itself and that’s how you author the story or life you’ve always wanted.
Sometimes in life loss internally is beyond self-pity and regret. Sometimes it is when you fail to see what others are eagerly and vigilantly working towards destroying in you.
I am your time that is up
Your story that’s come to an end
Your regrets and words unsaid.
Your what ifs and maybes.
Your whys and cries.
Your hows and tries.
Your breaking point and last stand.
Your surrender and longest slumber.
When umbers and shadows play, a peasant
blends effortlessly into a landscape standing
in the shade beneath a rust clay cottage seeking
shelter under tall carob and mocha trees
with draping juniper and seaweed leaves.
And so my friend you now comprehend
why writing is a track where the end spells lack.
Like a metronome’s pendulum poetry is a medium
that keeps me going down this track and coming back!