Shall this be an ordinary day,
the interplay of life and dreams,
and which shall be the focus,
when each breath succumbs to thoughts
so free and elusive to grasp and say,
what’s on their mind.
How aware we must be,
to watch our thoughts collide with truth,
and see how they meld with the ruse
we acknowledge as reason,
when we are more like seasons,
in ever-changing in moods.
Days are like the rise and fall of breath,
each one closer to death, to the end of time,
a passage we know not,
yet pin sublime in our belief,
that mind goes on, soul our whole existence,
beyond the ragged peaks of earth.
What day ensues is up to us,
in time’s endless passage, we are but momentary,
and should we wish the pleasures,
the joys of being, it is ours to glean,
a choice to make in wake of birth,
to aspire to our dreams.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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