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.
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