Friday, September 24, 2010

A Journey

Paris rain in July
I walk alone
in the center of my universe
and find small objects                                         
                            that clutter my way . ..
with open mouths                   
they cry at me
                                                        in unknown languages,
their hearts exposed                          
                 like a rainbow's sudden appearance
that surprises and puzzles me.                               

I walk alone
                                        and sometimes I run,
but I am always vulnerable                                      
       to the elemental storm
as it falls               
                    and the boulders
                                             which in time will halt
                                                       my flow as I stumble
on obstructions
as small as a molecule.                                               

I walk alone
                                       on the edges of time. . .
creating a symphony                         
that spills over the horizon
       and flows like tree sap
                                   around all my memories,
clutching them like dragonflies                     
forever in an amber gleam.

I walk alone
                                    amongst the stars
that glow like tiny beacons                                          
                          guiding me through the heavens,
                        calling my name . . .
lead me further                              
into an unknown universe
 littered with the
                                           fallen leaves of autumn's
debris . . .            
they drift before me like                                            
                 yesterday's sorrow
                                     running in the wind before me. . .
and the winter's white glow                               
soon covers me like a blanket of death.
I walk alone;
                                               I dream alone. . .
my dreams expand across my scope                             
                                    filling my box of soul
as they sift through                  
my grasping fingers.. .. ..                                                  
        like dust in the moonlight,
                                                soon disappearing
from that silver shine. . .                    
                         and become meaningless
flotsam in
the stillness of my life



jen said...

my wonderful friend, that is a most beautiful journey.....<3<3

Wolfsong said...

Thank you Jen, its comments like yours that encourage me to keep writing my poems - and lift up my spirits . . . :-)

Van Syla said...

A beautiful walk with a beautiful person. Thank you for leaving us this touching souvenir.

Wolfsong said...

Thank you, Van Syla, for reading my poetry . . .and commenting so nicely.