The irony of men's journey

 

From a dream

From a dream

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They romance us, They in trance us, They enhance us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They hide from us, They guide us, They sometimes confide in us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They find the man in us, They brand us, They stand by us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They are kind to us, They are not blind to us, They entwine us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They believe in us, They leave us, They bereave for us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They are a friend to us, They will defend us, They end with us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They are strong for us, They will wrong us, They are a song for us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They will sing for us, They will bring life to us, They are spring for us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They, with a song for us, They long for us, They will belong to us.

 

Midnight – the Witching hour, when they have the power.

They end the story for us, They foray into us. They see no glory in  us,

 

B, J. “A “, 2

March 15, 2025

Reactions

Reactions

Far too many years my Daughter has suffered heart ache from what I did not give.

Many ghosts linger on, haunting her subconscious, making it difficult for her to live

a normal existence, not consciously understanding the mechanisms that drives her action.

Waves roll relentlessly upon the oceans of time, turmoil beneath the surface, a distraction

carrying within its meandering currents, so much debris, propelling it, often in my direction

Offering up explanations, facts, no excuses, just regrets, seems not to offer any satisfaction

 

for this beautiful Girl / Woman who has decided to give up control and let her emotions flow.

having the professionals guide a direction to the places she would like, needs and wants to go.

Always pleasing, looking for approval, being the best are no longer reactions she needs to show.

 

I am beginning to think the ghosts are dissipating, becoming a faint vapor from the past, evaporating

 from the bright light of understanding, accepting, realizing that by letting go life will be more captivating.

The debris left upon the beaches of her life will be washed away with the outgoing tides, will be animating,

B. J. A. 2

November 9^th, 2014

 Epilogue

 My Daughters, fifty year journey, walking the rocky shores of her life

is alighting on pristine, sandy beaches, to the rhythms of soft waves

eroding away all the jagged edges of her earlier life’s adventures .  

 

The folly of a young man Lost opportunities, lost moments

 

Our World as seniors

 

Lifes Journey

 

Spaced Out / Inner Space