Lifes Journey
Life’s Journey
These days have forgotten, lost the beauty in a flame
from a fire no longer ablaze, not lighting life’s game.
Ashes to dust hanging in the air, all that doth remain
of what once was, nothing left will ever be the same
No one to enlighten, to stand up, only oneself to blame
Gray and moist, clouds blanket the sun, casting not but a dim shadow
upon what remains of all that once was, was ungratefully left fallow.
Moments, experiences painted with a hollow brush, a portrait so shallow,
a painting without colour, without depth, never knowing how to be mellow.
A tapestry on the verge, threads weaving in and out, depicting this fellow.
This fellow traverses this plane in a coat of many colours, never seen.
In the shadows, the shallows of life, no one knows what he has been.
Was he good, bad, indifferent, was he kind, cruel or just plain mean.
What will eyes see, that look upon reflections on this stagnant stream.
Will he deliberately race towards an abyss, over the edge he will careen
into a black hole, will he go, will anyone truly care to know.
When the painting, the tapestry is completed what will it show.
A soul lost in the wilderness, a spirit heading down below.
Will Helios penetrate the layers and upon him shine, a glow
solar winds heartily blow across the universe, life begins to flow.
B. J. “A ” 2
Copyright ©
William J. Jr. Atfield
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