Beckoning
Whoosh , hwush, wush
Wush whoosh hwush,
the billowing wind crashes
through the mountains,
it smashes my window pane,
and empties my bucket list.
I can hear them calling,
I can see them coming,
and I can feel them beckoning me to come.
but I’ve died a hundred times,
resurrected from a thousand death ,
and I know that it is not my time yet.
I have made a hundred plans,
but they have all crumbled in my hands.
Reason or purpose?
Coincident or plan?
I still do not understand.
It is inevitable,
It is unchangeable ,
and it lingers at our door.
unfilled dreams and endless goals,
what if this story was never to be told?
hiking on the mountains,
building homes for homeless children,
Or spending time with family and friends.
I scanned through my list,
but nothing seem to fit,
have I already achieved them?
or am I reliving them?
what else is there to do on my bucket list?
©2013 Christine Phillips
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