Selective Memories
Do our thoughts have a mind of their own;
is our conscience, indeed, our guide;
do we have thoughts; for which we atone;
where do our memories reside?
Who is in charge of what we remember;
who makes out our grocery list;
or recalls memories from last December;
The End Of Night
I find myself in in a darkening fog;
a kingdom devoid of light;
consciousness is an energy analog;
heaven is the end of night.
We strive to create a heaven on earth;
but no man was created to rule;
man is consumed with pride; from birth;
When Tears Run Dry
Sorrow has its limit; and so do tears;
as for love; the same is true;
when we grow lonely and old in years;
our time for tears is through.
Emotions run high, when we are young;
our future; beyond our vision;
in the realm called time;
Love Is Never Earned
We often speak of falling in love;
as though merely an accident;
true love is ordained from above;
it is an act of provident.
Love is far too important a gift;
to recklessly dole out to man;
it’s not about someone we kissed;
it’s
Memory Lane
Now that I’m old; I do less walking;
sometimes, I require a cane;
embarrassed with bystanders gawking;
as I walk down memory lane.
Memory lane is a venue of the mind;
it never requires legs or feet;
a dream state; leaving today behind;
where all my yesterdays
Chapters Of The Mind
Consciousness is the book of life;
thoughts divided into chapters;
with pages of joy, anger, and strife;
in our dreams; we’re the actors.
We dream of seasons of physicality;
often, emotionally shaken;
death returns our thoughts to reality;
causing the soul to awaken.
Chapters draw
…The Master Of My Fate
What is this mystery referred to as fate;
was it designed as my destiny;
some special future; which I must await;
about whatever is best for me?
Did not the Master give me free choice;
are we not to live at our own accord;
or,
A Petulant Child
Life is a never ending ebb and flow;
presenting itself in stages;
childishness seems to come and go;
as each life turns its pages.
It’s understandable; when we’re young;
for a child is our true identity;
when we get older; we then become;
a petulant
