hope

weighed down, bound by the travails of this life,

at times desolate,

at times with seemingly no respite.

the sunken talons of the drudgery of the days,

clawing deeply, shackle each breath taken,

wresting joy away.

the fierce mauling of time, swatting dreams once dreamed,

left to fester in the chords of the unfinished song.

still we trudge, still we stand upright, still we scribble odes for tomorrow,

still we somehow cope,

still we carry our drained bodies,

still we persist, still we somehow hope …

a short scribble

nothing leaves a heart reeling,

more than the heart,

filled with an abundance of feeling 

spilled words

spilled words …

what are these words, this ink on parchment, scribbled odes to love and to loss,

beseeching the fates, the rolling of the years, imploring them to be gentle,

yes, what are these words strewn across flimsy paper,

wrenching souls laid bare, offering comfort only in knowing that we shall never, ever cease, to dare to care …

twilight tales

twilight tales … … …

birds in free flight, 

nestled, settled, basking in the peaceful moonlight,

awaiting for night to descend aflutter.

humans, you and i,

forage for tidbits of peace,

and as moonlight beckons,

we draw every shutter …