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Never Say Cant

Swirling mists obscured the scene; occulting awaited revelations. In the clearing, the future played out its scenes one by one, on Chrystal walls, like a painting on a canvas. He interpreted each image in a factual way, though I took it with a proverbial, grain-of-salt; after all, this was just for fun. My friend and I did it only for entertainment; no one can really tell the future…we thought. Years later, we of boggled minds and over cappuccino, compared notes. We decided that at least one psychic, was on the mark. What’s more bizarre? It seems that when anyone says, “It can’t happen” or “can’t be done”; the opposite is true and the impossible manifests.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 6/11/2015 10:37:00 AM
A poem offering quiet reflection on the essence of being human and sharing an experience intrinsic to our species of extending our limits to the brink of the impossible. Emile.
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M. L. Kiser
Date: 6/11/2015 1:55:00 PM
Emile, thank you so much for the wonderful comments. I'm glad that you stopped by.

Book: Shattered Sighs