Thinking
In the absence of imagination
I have been devoid of inspiration.
Caught in life's cog of constant
activity and no time to think.
I pause a while and ponder the past.
This is a time of reflection.
Today I stopped, but so much has
passed me by. I wonder why it is so?
Where does the time go? How can we know
if we are right or wrong in our choices?
Is the voice of intuition always right;
speaking so loudly, yet always out of sight.
The concept of time is a strange one.
The concept of life stranger still!
Gamboling down slopes of happiness
then trudging up another hill.
Strange how in the memory the good
always prevails. Strange that hurt can
fade as rainbows; prisms of perfection
in only stormy skies. Now I think of
the 'weather' of existence;
times of icy misery; foggy thoughts,
sunny hope; snow covered mountains of uncertainty;
the summer serenity of sureness so seldom seen.
And here we are approaching winter again.
Where did the seasons go? I missed them;
always busy,imagination absent, caught in life's'
cog of activity and no time to think.
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