Like a lilting breeze, a pleasured sigh,
the gloaming attests through beauty’s eye,
the quiet and accepting relent of day,
as beginnings fall and endings invite the new to say,
there is a better way, another path,
the aftermath to joyous life.
Each dawn in all its colored silent frenzy,
shards like piercing blades across the blue,
heralds the new, the unsaid words of intention’s breath,
to swallow death and let life reign,
without regret, without the debt of guilt,
to follow hearts to dreams not yet fulfilled.
As eyes flicker, and thoughts relinquish dreams,
as sentience climbs wearily from the chamber bed,
what sense of expectation fills our heads,
do we leap to possibility, or slump to probability,
relenting all the goals we once pursued,
when hope’s banner was majestic and ever flown.
Worn, like pebbles in a stream, we, weary of our dreams,
feel a lack-luster found in time,
when life’s harsh reproach can send us blind,
remind us of vulnerability, sensibilities
that open wounds, in failure’s rhyme,
a sign of our ineptitude.
Yet without a leap of faith,
that morning light to doors unseen but fated,
will remain closed, and we continue to hide in dreams,
hope that we can redeem ourselves,
when all it takes is letting go,
each day the glow of newness in the stream.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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