This time of the year

Things don’t make the same sense as before…anymore

I spent years building a shining facade…

Sewing, patching, mending till my fingers were sore

Now…as the seasons pass by…I find myself picking at the stitches

Quietly but determinedly unravelling…

Removing layer after layer

What will be exposed – I know not…or have forgotten maybe..

Why have the covers become so heavy?

The Plight of Now

The Plight of Now

That many, to belong, give up their souls….

No Talent For Certainty

I wish that I could drive into the past,
And travel down the highways of my youth:
I’m seized here with despair about these times
That shun and slander beauty, goodness, truth —

I do not think that times were simpler then –
They were for me, but I was just a kid –
I think that people still held out a hope
That they could live in decency amid
A world that, even then, seemed going wrong.
But now so many have beclouded minds:
Real things have not the weight of made-up words,
The province of the many party lines.

Here’s what I think, although its hardly new:
It’s bad to harm, and better far to care;
That many, to belong, give up their souls;
What we prize most, seems vanity and air.

We dive into the darkness at a cost –
For laughter fades
The day we know

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And Yet —

And Yet —

So True!

No Talent For Certainty

Our hearts will wander where they will
In valleys dark, of cruel heartache,
And avalanche that makes them break;
And yet they’re beating, beating still

Our hearts will wander where they will
Through partnerships that fade away,
Slow death that crushes them each day;
But yet they’re beating, beating still

Our hearts will wander where they will,
Sore trials they will undergo,
Encased in people they don’t know;
And yet —
They’re beating,
Beating
Still

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