Grey and dreary days
Make one’s heart weary
Grey and dreary days
Make one’s heart weary
What hour decides a person’s fate?
Which new fork in the road?
When’s going back not possible?
Why go forward at all?
So many treasures
From all across the wide world
Hist’ry in a room
I had not oft questioned my earthly path
Until I found the road came to an end—
Not just an end, a cliff before me then—
No way to turn but back to what I knew
And question then did I all that I knew
The birds, the skies, my God, the very ground
Each thing that once was sure I’ve questioned since
My path was found to end with nar’ a thought
‘Reach for the stars,’ they say
‘And you’ll make it someday’
Believing fully in the pow’r of will
That with naught but your dream,
With riches you will teem!
Forgot have they that which will my dream kill:
I
Am
Not
An
Astronaut
Thinking of beaches
Warm sand and sun
Lost in a heavenly dream
Alas! As if my brain had turnt to sludge
I’ve lost my will to write; each lonely drop
Of creativity won’t spark, won’t budge
They each insist they cease, desist, and stop
My lexicon’s diminished, torn to shreds
I’m scarce able to rhyme, resigned to plod
Along all day until it’s time for bed(s)
And write, ‘blah blah, blah blah, blah blah, blah blah’.(d)
Not long before the meter will succumb
To frazzled, twisted thoughts that can’t quite form
Coherent, structured sentences dumb
They make so little sense anymore
Perhaps I’ll turn to reading now instead
Perhaps somehow it can reset my head
Full cups
Full coffers
Full shelves
Full drawers
Full pockets
Full closets
But no love
No life at all
Have I not
Proven myself?
Have I not
Done what is necessary?
Have I not
Gone above and beyond?
I believe I have
They say I have not
Questions ever flow
Answers seldom come
And yet so oft we say we know the truth