Words Are Sometimes Cumbersome
Let us make promises to one another,
with waiting touch to be made. A man
can never be certain of the silence if the
silence is impossible to touch. Floods may
come and floods may go; either way the
trees will grow much as always. Eyes may
travel from left to right but nothing firm
can be determined until a vision waiting
begins to turn into reality arrived. Nowhere
will you find the minutes of life replayed.
Once it is gone, it is gone and to realize
this is the beginning of wisdom. In the air
stands music, playing some sort of odd
bit of song. A man must sometimes stop
and listen to the melody of his mind. Words
are sometimes cumbersome; and passion
is often something defined but not felt.
All in all, what is to happen will do so
regardless of what you may want.
Stand at attention, the flag is raised.
And in agreement we find ourselves
drinking bottles of sherry in the dark.
Copyright © Chris G. Vaillancourt | Year Posted 2014
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