Above my brow they wave to me
A cautionary tale
As soldiers guarding gates of gold
Stand strong behind a veil
They mark the days and ways gone by
They're crumbs along the path
As earmarked signs of work and time
The effort put forth I hath
To cover them might be a shame
A mask might keep them hid
They show themselves for not I can
Turn years back to when they're rid
For days gone by are worthy foes
And days before hold promise
The soldiers call for reinforcements
To light the path before us
Friday, September 16, 2011
Where is the sun
I need it's light
Without, it's dark
And only night
Where caution leads
Before the dawn
And fear lurks close
Before the 'morn
With light
The shades of gray will fade
Their cloaked dismay
May shy away
The fear they bring
No longer hold
The tremors through
Our souls they've sold
The shadows lift
And with the night
They take away
Our fears in flight
For with the light
The dawn will lift
Our fears away
And set adrift
We walk down a path
Our thoughts set to flight
And are taken away
Through dawn of the night
The risk of today flies
With rise of the moon
Caution set to wind
From fears come to soon
And what we have near
Are forgotten for Promise
From dreams that will dawn
With chances we might miss
And hold tight our breath
When dreams of tomorrow
Where all but forgotten
From tonight or from sorrow
A hope and a rainbow
A chance and a dream
A catch of our breath
And a new time to scream
Saturday, September 10, 2011
What kind of stories do you tell if you let yourself truly go? Are they amazing tales that mark your life and keep your imagination bright with all the colors of feelings and emotions and experiences that you let explode on your landscape? What is your life's topography? Hilly, rocky, changing depths, changing directions, colors exploding? Do your stories make you smile? Make you happy? (am I just a story to tell)
Or is your tale one of sound bites, muted by fear, kept small by necessity, reality? Tans and grays all kept dull, to fade into the background because you didn't dare stand out, be noticed. You don't dare grab the brass ring and run. Or even worse, you don't even try for fear you'll fall, or fail, and be laughed at. Who did you think you were - how on this day or any other could you be that good, that worthy of love, of happiness?
So look in the mirror little one, young or old it makes no matter, you are playing small. Look with eyes open wide. See beyond (around or through) the veil you hide behind - find your colors, paint them bright and bold - paint them with broad strokes and make them splash. Let them come alive. For you are letting life pass you by, by hiding. By covering who you can be, who you are. Don't be afraid. You have still many wonderful stories to live, to write, to tell.
Or is your tale one of sound bites, muted by fear, kept small by necessity, reality? Tans and grays all kept dull, to fade into the background because you didn't dare stand out, be noticed. You don't dare grab the brass ring and run. Or even worse, you don't even try for fear you'll fall, or fail, and be laughed at. Who did you think you were - how on this day or any other could you be that good, that worthy of love, of happiness?
So look in the mirror little one, young or old it makes no matter, you are playing small. Look with eyes open wide. See beyond (around or through) the veil you hide behind - find your colors, paint them bright and bold - paint them with broad strokes and make them splash. Let them come alive. For you are letting life pass you by, by hiding. By covering who you can be, who you are. Don't be afraid. You have still many wonderful stories to live, to write, to tell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)