Thursday, July 29, 2010


(In memory of those yet to come)

When first you lift the pendulum arm
it swings wide and free
from East to West
the gift of time to adventure
explorations yielding treasure
and delight

The rhythm changes fractionally
stubble turning into beard
preferences becoming habits
comfort and familiarity
lure our restless hearts
nesting a vocation for bipeds
and avians alike
a lifetime marked by doorways
through which you’ve journeyed
n’er by the rooms you’ve occupied

When memory stumbles
words bind us
across the generations
photographs provide evidence
pixels amassed from halcyon days
vignettes infused with fables
remnants of a lifetime’s hopes
our biographies plumbed and tidied

When winter chases autumn
into the declining light
the pendulum swings tighter
its speed positing
an elder’s sense of time
finally acknowledging
our inability to transfer ownership
of dreams to those we leave behind

Each cadre writes anew
fresh thoughts upon blank pages
the prayers of ancients flowing
eternally surrounding
their kindred through the ages
their blessings everlasting
though hidden from our sight

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