Why is it ?, that we must forget
what it is we have not lived, yet.
From birth, life blinds, yet we have met
that forgotten life, in moments of de’ ja vu.
Could this be our life ?, we occasionally get to view.
For most, that life remains mute.
For some, it becomes quite astute.
Upon invisible wings, the wind carries a soul
into a void, where no one will know.
Within, the confines of a silent voice, a spirit,
a spirit without the eloquence of enlightened speech.
Therefore, nary an ear to hear, an eye to see, a mind to reach.
Yet that inner voice continues to search for the dance
that will lead a wayward soul across the rainbows to romance.
A love affair with all of the beauty life has to offer,
not to let it rot behind steel doors of the mind’s coffer.
It is, in all that one believes, that creates the fear,
that in the end, will leave them with nothing that is dear.
Therefore, misty, translucent shadows will become all.
Love of life, love of self will surly fall.
These be the images of what lie far below,
a reality hidden among the shadows that lay low
all that could bring one to great heights,
bring one into the beauty of full light.
B. J. “A” 2
November 17th 2012