Just One Day
It was just an ordinary maze of a day unlike so many others
An array of multitude hanging from intersections of fortune
Aberrations cul-de-sacs opposites shadows cautious anticipation
Tentative expectations inspiration expiration holding their breath
Tim was aware that knowledge without actions falls short of
Full marks and the stains on a palette of multi-chrome canvas
The thunder had settled but lightning had left an eerie mood
Of emotions lingering from cracks that dawned upon mist
He had been searching for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow
In essence his consciousness streamed a stairway to heaven
He gathered his raincoat for it still showered heavily in the wind
Oiled his skin and his soul with sun lotion for extra protection
He needed a kite though and therefore grounded his wings
Flew roots of all causes out of their shelter caressed his ascent
Surely Icarus had applied far too much wax from torched fire
Until he had waned a high flyer no doubt but ambitiously crashed
Tim had burnt his candle at both ends had exhausted the wick
So he fastened a brittle wicker basket to strings of the sun’s rays
The hallowed lands beckoned and he floated on a song and a
Prayer assured in the faith that the spur of the moment was based
On hard graft morphing tentative feeling with persistence and reason
He remembered that as a young child he had wished to take off
Only to graze his knees and his Ego once he fell to the ground but
Now he was surely an adult or maybe a youngster in disguise of grey hair
Yet thinking only got him so far he had mistaken a Pi in the sky
For a long-winded diagonal squaring the roots of the circle of life
Prime numbered primordial screams still clouded exuberant vision
Until a voice out of nowhere revealed conjecture he could not refute
‘If you truly want to discern that golden pot from potty insanity’ his
Diaphragm whispered ‘you must try something new not follow the past’
A beacon of trans-luminous intuition transcended Tim’s ambition
Epilogues are just beginnings ‘I am a scribe with pen and a fountain’
A nib with comprehension but ‘nascent meaning acts upon dreams’
Once het let go of the misconception that rainbows have endings he
Jumped straight to the middle collected droplets of light in the fog
Tim settled on the crest of prisms in condensed reflection and peace
‘No more fool’s gold’ his epiphany shouted ‘Just seize another day’
16th February 2019
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2019
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