Getting Older in Autumn

sunset

pinterest – sunset

I read somewhere today about recognizing positive energy,

wonder came across my mind,

am I, can they, do anyone I know,

is there really a measure,

or are we all simply kidding ourselves.

 

I would glance around the room during times like these,

see all the different faces,

are they feeling the same,

maybe not now, or could we, is the

same solitude as impactful for her,

as it might be for the other guy

nearby wondering what lunch will be,

later on.

 

Is it really that simple for those that would rather complicate

the reality of our lives,

are we all, is it this, did you, I said it again,

I keep trying to stay out of this argument,

yet somehow I find I’m in the middle,

always trying with little effort,

or perhaps it is the other way around,

I might really exercise a certain bizarre discipline

toward accentuating

the negative nature of the human condition.

 

I do know there is a measure of truth

in the reality of a giving spirit,

I can see it on their faces,

the fresh affect, beautiful demeanor

of those whose smile is as real

as a wonderful sunset on a cool summer’s night.

 

That visual caused just a little bit of happiness … right?

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Responsive Journey

A quiet path,

many minds have passed,

yet inside remains

alone like a ricocheting energy,

a certainty in privacy,

that which no one might alone

experience beyond

a silent beholden traveler.

 

Many nights, autumn mornings,

spring into action while the world around

might discover new purpose,

a reasoning that while easily

defined,

still remains on the outside,

wondering just how soon

there might be some quiet

revelation

toward opening doors.

 

yet there in the midst of a quiet existence

remains the wonder,

which while inside is felt.

What happens when

shared notions

become some emotive prayer

for understanding the logic

of living out our dreams

based upon

some ventured task to grasp

insecurity.

When Will It Happen

When will the day become the reason,

when lives we seem to wonder a loud

become just a natural breeze in the fall.

 

Because we honor tales people create

they seem so simply easy to relate,

and yet, we do every turn complicate.

 

A long time ago, a person listened,

then told the story again, while others

began to recognize some purpose.

 

How many reminders will it take

until acceptance might become

some certain negotiate.

 

Standing outside the same moment,

there will always be a recall,

some symbolic gesture before the fall.

 

While everyone around us debates

a timely reckoning to decide,

the active reality will remain.

 

A long time ago, a certain history

began a repetitive tale of balance.

In the morning stories will continue.

The Last Time I Checked

There was purpose in my day,

a willingness to share,

yet the constructs of a certain way,

would often interfere,

well, just my luck.

 

I often walk away this way,

the drive home,

a long enduring road,

looking around to see,

if anyone else might be my way.

 

I lack the fortitude

one might easily say

to perhaps whether the storm

may be the cause of me,

or certainly the human way.

 

There always is that possibility

of just getting past all of the

hypocrisy, the second guessing,

the idiocy inherent

with wondering just where we are.

 

I walked inside a world

why, just the other day,

where a little girl would cry,

her story breaking the hearts

of everyone inside her day.

 

And then, I wondered again,

while walking away,

is it just me,

or is life meant to be compelling,

in whatever manner He choose.

Two Would Pass Together

(dedicated to the goodness of time, a friend and his family)

When in a moment we might reflect

upon the reason,

we could together share a memory,

the fleeting laughter,

we would do this together,

wouldn’t we create a scene,

a wonderful attribute,

of the years,

oh the many years,

the travels we knew

without ever having to leave our home.

 

In a sort of magical day dream,

we crossed so many paths as one,

and now today,

they celebrate a journey

oh for the love of our children

we do,

we will always,

we did for the span of a lifetime

hope and pray,

we might somehow find His way,

some way decide upon a natural course

of our lives

we would find

sweet serenity,

a mysterious energy,

one with love,

a compassion

we might give freely …

cherish the beauty of time.

 

For it is today,

we now togeteher

cross the sky

with a specacular

sunrise,

a setting moon,

in each adventure,

I might in the arctic

winter

share love as a soul mate

might find again,

discover the truth

was always within our dreams.

 

Peace be with the onlookers

for their journey just begun.

The Moon Spins While Being Human

Just when – a life – began to know,

the world would turn upside down,

up and down,

the roller coaster of living,

that piece of life,

that living peace,

the part of never knowing exactly why,

why not,

why should we begin

to feel there is a real reason,

it would be so easy,

they often say that in the final moments,

don’t they?

don’t they,

didn’t they ever give you any indication.

Did you know,

did you have any idea

at all.

 

It is in life’s conclusion,

we begin to realize,

forced really,

to know the beginning of answering

questions that will forever

be the haunting edge of wondering just how,

when,

why is it so simple to reason now,

when earlier in the day,

weeks ago,

that one time, that sunny afternoon,

where laughter always seemed to bury

the pain.

It was then,

the indicator

suggested we should all plan our lives

around being together,

knowing we would

always understand,

always be around,

be able to answer the …

there is a certain mystique in

recognizing timing and the essential

point

of no return.

 

She was as simply beautiful as

a spectacular morning sun,

his wit,

the ability for him to carry a room,

he’ll never know just how,

he’ll never know,

it is really too bad,

too bad,

when we all fail to realize

the beauty of life is being able

to face the demons head on.

 

Face the demons head on,

the spirit moves you,

to understand the world is

as simple as the day is long,

left in the hands of a complication,

we all have to recognize

there is a moon held in fashion,

for everyone,

for every one,

every

one person that suggests the same,

the people we care about,

care about you as well,

they all do see the same moon …

 

When simply we wonder

we always carry the same

the same familiar response,

we all can be in one,

holding true

to a realization.

 

We are all in some humane form,

responding to the same moon.

 

 

What Rally Cry

Standing alone,

choosing alone,

no dial tone,

seems the last moments

will bend forever

the opportunity

to glance ahead,

beyond the scrutiny

deeply laid inside the victim’s head.

 

and then …

 

There is the question of whose hurt

is more measurable,

the choice,

or the outcome,

the afterward,

or perhaps it is the originator,

who by virtue of the human condition,

isn’t given any allowance

to return the favor of knowledge.

 

We just know the outcome.