Sometimes life throws many mountains at us. Do we stand and look at them then turn away? Or do we latch on to them, climb them, and rejoice when we’ve reached the top?
Time is a circle
round and round
never ending,
at times we stand our ground
but moving forward
forever future bound,
listening then shifting
attention this way and that
to find the reason for a sound,
finding nothing
strolling along life’s journey
and learning lessons found.
Life is a soccer field. We have goals to reach. There are ideas we kick around on our run toward our goal. Yes, sometimes we are thwarted by life working against us. We stumble and fall. But then we get back up, work our ideas in a new direction, maneuver around life or do a fake out if need be, then we run head long toward the goal. If someone is there to stop you, try again.
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dear Me,
If you’re reading this, it means you lived a long life due to learning from your mistakes. Way to go.
Strolling through life’s garden,
shadows rain,
seeking shelter as winds whip,
danger hovers,
droplets spit and spatter ‘cross my cheek,
strength stings,
then clouds thin their thick blankets,
goodness yawns,
a beam of sun glides a light revealing,
warmth shines.
Somewhere behind the curtain of time,
exists life’s lessons taught and missed,
with sauntered steps I must persist,
toward future tense and paradigm.
Thus forward moving events repeat,
’round and round the cycle goes,
trudging onward people doze,
doom ever looming oh so sweet.
Time ripples forth with smoothly flowing gaits,
gliding slowly as sorrow stills and sates,
life leads me on though I will look away,
and think of nothing but of you today.
Months said goodbye forever letting go,
and told me not to fret or sink so low,
pleasures from life’s pool of beauty tickled,
releasing the stabbing hurt that prickled.
Years raced away in adverse direction,
flying fast with haste and desperation,
sinking low was never contemplated,
life became the chair that I have hated.
Now as I look up with eyes wide open,
light ensconced my view to bring its hope in.
Intricate beauty captures,
hearts and souls,
alas, your arms surrounding.
Traces fixed as outlines fade,
sun shifts, beams,
I am revealed as always.
Redness, goodness, passion set,
tucked within,
your soul captures, scintillates.
Through your heart life captures me,
awakens,
paint-strokes of love spark and glow.
Beauty weaves its perfect love,
hearts and souls,
your arms surround me, alas.
I give to you all that I have in life,
may goodness ever be your brightness of light,
an answer to the questions you ask,
will never display as a veil or a mask,
when you peer inside my soul,
transparent and lucid will I behold,
your eyes have given to me love that wills,
a love so stabbing, my body it fills,
with arms around me and keeping me snug,
off my shoulders all harm I will shrug.
High winds blew all of the leaves off my backyard trees in one swoop night. They were blown bare, which leads me to my next observation. As they stand there, a statement is being made by them in their own way. “Winter is coming, and we’re ready to go the distance.” In the spring, of course, they come back to life and grow to their fullest once more.
As writers, sometimes life blows in and knocks us down in one swoop. Whether it’s family issues, living issues, medical issues, writer’s block, a review your not happy with, or your motivation just isn’t there. Know this: set backs are temporary. There will be a Spring of sorts coming your way, and you will flourish again. Don’t allow the winds of life to knock you down and keep you down. Spring back to life.
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 