Ode from Yesterday
There is a place beyond the night
Where vision does not pierce,
Where lies the look of muddlement
That shackles without force.
I’ve spent some time in looking
For a blur I will not see,
Yet lingers on the morning’s dawn -
There veiled by glimmered sea.
Will I see the fog encroaching,
Or feel it in my bones?
Will I know enough to seek myself,
In turning over stones?
I’m most afraid of losing touch
With purpose and its bliss.
Will it matter, having shared ahead,
In telling who wrote this?
Copyright © Robert Waltrip | Year Posted 2025
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