Choices

There are times when I wonder about the choices ?

Why they come to light in dark hours, to speak ?, their voices

 

making them as hollow and empty as barren bottle of champagne,

ticking away expectations – dissipating - as they complain.

 

Bubbles bursting, as they touch the air of realization,

become flat and as meaningless, when in contemplation,

 

of, why ?, all the empty hours, between then and when,

are as stagnant as still waters and some men.

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Inner Voices

Is my love, like a Cockatoo, captured, kept in a cage ?

Never to escape its gilded bars, living in rage,

as it’s spirit – enfolded - dying, decaying,

may never know - may never stop crying -

what freedom is, for its captured soul,

just pieces of what once was a whole.

 

The cage will never let go.

The heartless will never show.

The Cockatoo, will never unfold its wings.

Its voice, not to be heard, what it sings.

Never to know flight, once more

is its fate, behind a closed door.

 

Never to see the light.

To never know flight.

In dream, reaches out,

voice, raised in a shout,

takes hold of the wind, fly’s,

high up into heavenly blue sky’s.

 

upon compassionate winds, flying free,

towards you, whoever you may be,

where ever you are

no matter which star.

B. J. “A” 2

January 26^th 2004