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, the mam.
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 17th 2008