Winds of  Change

Riding on the wings of time – a mystery.

Carried on the winds of past history.

Beauty of still the vision seen.

Memories cherished of what had been.

In a rear view mirror- truth gleaned ?

Reality felled – all that was dreamed.

Her reality ?, - but the Grim Reapers plan

to kill off the dream, the heart, this man.

 Riding on the wings of time – a mystery

carried on the winds of past history.

Beauty of still the vision seen

in spite of herself and what has been –

the journey, the adventure of this old man

who, with love, does the best he can

to execute the dreams, the desires, the plan.

 

All efforts- in the end – to no avail.

All efforts made – only to fail.

How to cut the cord ?, to let go ?,

to accept fate, that which do know,

and have known all along –

to let it be and let it be gone ?

This seems to be something can’t

and seems to be something I shan’t –

for the love I have to give – buried deep –

lives on, will not give up, lay down and sleep,

that deep sleep of the long dead.

Just can not get her out of my head !

 

Beauty, doth look down on me !

This Lady, fair doth not see –

but images project, reflected in the mirror of she.

B. J. “A” 2

August 17^th 2008