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Shirley I Am Part Three

the spirit in my head, this my brain is constantly feed,
and in all likelihood, will persist until I am dead.
All possibilities seem to have gone to waste
and that is all these eyes seem to be faced 

with as I ran the race and with many, raced
through life without much thought and in such haste
to meet up with family, all whom I once called friend
as I reach out, reach into the ether only to end

with all these vacant words, an empty soul to send
on its journey across time and space, hoping to mend.
by offering – little more than inundated memories
to appease, lift me from the grave, past the trees

where souls, spirits hover,  know the hand that frees 
grief, regrets from all they rage against in tempest seas.
Oh !, what a waste it is, for me to be enraged
by the fact that I am locked in age – caged 

by times passing, with all my thoughts – staged
for - who knows ? -  for those who wish to see
what I was, what I am, what has become of me,
projected into space, an understanding of what be

the essence, the answers to my spirit, my soul  
for anyone who cared, could come to know.
I do wonder ?, how life could be for me, if not fraught
by black clouds, heavy shrouds, battles to be fought. 

I wonder how life would be ?, if upon a beam - caught
up by the light, exposed to all – what I have sought.
That light – pure, honest, can only shine upon the tale of me
in words, beliefs, feelings, that in the end, all can see

that everything written, has always been about me.
For that is who I am ( me, myself and I ) for the world can see,
as can all those who have known or tried to touch me.
For there is little more for me to show, or for you to see,

then what’s before your eyes - laid on heavy by me.
There will come a day when all is shown.
There will come a day when all is known.
There will come a day when all is shared.

There will come a day when all is cared 
for, all are cared for, all will be cared for
with an open heart, no longer a closed door
to greet, just unconditional love. for evermore.

What we have here !, ?, is. 
Prophecy ?
The heights of insight ? The depths of insanity ?
The curtain has finally come down on this play. 

B. J. “A” 2
February 18th 2006

Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2015

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Kp Nunez Date: 3/2/2015 6:14:00 AM Shirley not, sire? To allow the curtain to fall, when it's just been the matinee show , would deprive us your readers, both the silent and not so silent, the intriguing pleasure of reading your writes. Still waiting for the main show...Hugs and smiles :D Kim Login to Reply

Steven Hanlon Date: 3/1/2015 9:48:00 PM so much in this william great poem Login to Reply William J. Jr. Atfield Date: 3/2/2015 5:05:00 PM Good Afternoon Steve Hanlon : So nice to see that you stopped by and thank you for your comments Steve,“ so much in this ” yes !, probably far too much of man’s / woman’s / my life’s experiences, questions and perceptions. So kind of you to say, to think “great poem”, especially after having read your seven entry’s on poetrysoup . B. J. “A” 2