Drawn by time
inexorably to his winter
an ancient soul, emptied of life,
bound for the sacrifice
reflecting on just how hard the fall was
now that the hour glass
has been fixed to the table;
that was not his best season.
Making mistakes
for which there is no grace,
pain threatens the heart,
the life to which it belongs,
but shows not on his face.
Competing theories abound,
who's right, who is wrong,
now passing as ships in the night.
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Loved the ending. The imagine that comes to my mind when I picture ships passing in the night is always heart wrenching and disparately
ReplyDeletealone. ~k.
Thank you. Ultimately, we do die alone, but how we choose to live is what defines us. I've tried the route of forgiveness, without enough success aparrently. And life goes on . . .
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