When We Lose Our Voice or Imagine Being Surrounded By Singing Trees
There are many times,
When we are stuck,
Like when a player exclaims, “Checkmate!”,
And our king falls, as it is struck.
At that point,
The game is lost,
It is over,
Despite how we were flossed.
There are also moments,
When we need to perform it right,
There’s only one chance,
To match time and heart’s delight.
One of those occasions,
Might be to propose,
At the best table and perfect place,
Words resonate, hearts beat, & hands enclose.
Maybe it is a heavy decision,
That needs to be made,
Once spoken,
The ripples of it will never fade.
As time moves forward,
It never rewinds,
Wrinkles become more prominent,
No matter the potion she uses and finds.
As Earth exists,
Forces like wind and rain,
Erode the land in some places,
In other places, there are gains.
What was once before,
Never completely stays the same,
Change is the only constant,
With any true aim.
The Point of No Return,
Brings to mind being surrounded by singing trees,
Because I ignored the forest signs,
While lost sheep had my mind in a state of unease.
Sometimes we are trapped,
Physically in one place,
Others impede our escape,
And even make chase.
Is the Point of No Return,
A moment, an event, a place, a choice,
A state of being, a truth, what we see,
Or simply the time at which we lose voice?
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
|