The morning dawn awakes, so do I
I know this much does not change day to day.
In my journeys through the night I pass by
Field of memory I can’t keep they say.
One flower picked, and I’m accused a thief
Tell me, who’s the real owner of my field?
Of my own will, can’t keep one thought so brief,
Then by whose orders are these vault doors sealed?
Nighttime. No rest for the weary it seems.
Where journey after restless journey through
The confines of these labyrinthine dreams,
Leaves me not any closer to the truth.
These are dreams I won’t remember I fear,
I see there will be no rest for me here.
Posted in Personal, Sonnets
Tagged dawn, day, door, dream, journey, labyrinth, maze, poem, poetry, rest, thief, Travel, truth, vault, weary
Calling for the moon expecting light,
Waiting for a sign before the shadows have fallen.
There comes no brightness only night,
To this small world that’s walled in.
Between its branches, the towering trees afford,
A narrow view of glowing clouds,
That seemingly cast an air of discord
On those who linger beneath the foliage; the blackened shroud.
I will continue on. I feel such cold.
Another day within this arboreal labyrinth lost.
I know the way, I’m no longer young, now old.
Many times before and many times the cost,
I could have escaped long ago, and should have.
The minutes here appear so shallow.
And though the path was mine, it was fates’ to craft.
What I’ve learned has made my time here far from hollow.
Having pushed onward through twilight and holding onto seeing dawn,
I regret not the dusk through which I’ve come so far along.
Posted in On A Positive Note
Tagged brightness, cost, dawn, dusk, labyrinth, minutes, Moon, old, poetry, time, trees, twilight