Echoes of Thunder

On this late June morning, As distant thunder shakes the window panes And the grey sky rolls quietly by, I find myself stuck in a pool of time, Swirling quietly round in a brief respite From the ongoing rush and rapids of life The mistakes in my years are remote yet visible, Like a mountain range in a rearview mirror. They recede, but they do not dimish. The future is still misty and veiled. I don't know where the road is going, Though I know where I want it to go. How many times must I play "Harvest Moon" and "A Thousand Years" Before you catch on? Outside, the rain has started.