Folds
The day folds in on itself
The pictures on the wall remain the same
While faces and feelings begin to change
Time can be a curse to a broken heart
Waiting for the spirit to become a part
Of something bigger than itself
Vanities Visions pale to Wisdom earned
And Faith that’s learned
To look outside itself
Time weaves its stitches into me
As it passes by without a care
But tends to miss one here and there
Revealing little rips and tears
Tiny holes to see right through
But never Exposing a total view
Of the Mind’s Eye
Soulful Silence encompasses me
As
I Unfold into another night.
Copyright © Chris Hagy | Year Posted 2018
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