How and When, Will It All End
I once wrote a poem
about that time I looked into my dog’s eyes
and asked questions
and searched answers of existence.
Another time, another poem
my attention captured by a mountain peak
as I found in the depths of tranquility
a revelation in my being.
One summer morning
a poem about flowers in a garden
and how the morning dew was upon their petals still.
Wrote about the sights, and the sounds, and the smells
and the delights flowers provide for the living.
Perhaps today
a poem about that time I got lost
and was crying at a picnic
and how that woman found me
brought me back to my parents
who eased the unrest
that I had experienced deep within my soul.
But mind always compels me to write another
while consumed by the sight of wrinkles on my face
and my thinning gray hair
pulled into a mind created vortex
of fear and uncertainty
which causes me to wonder
how and when
it will one day all end.
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