I am an old soul
No title adorns the cover of my Book of Life
My manuscript remains a dog-eared work in progress
And I wonder…
Each time I am renewed will I recall…at all
Will remembrance of beauties past or hard earned victories linger
Will ignorance mute the voices of wisdoms residing within..
Maid, Mother and Crone waiting patiently
brimming with truths gleaned from chapters past
pages long ago written…and turned..
Until at last they stir
Tickling my sense
Waking dormant memories…
and once again..I remember
Will you, at last, converse with me
when I am gone?
When you alone supply our dialogue
what words will you give my non-existent voice…
the voice you fled from
the voice you rejected
the voice whose truth you feared…
Will you squabble with yourself
in attempts to assuage guilt
and replenish illusions shame created?
When all hope for resolution is no more
will you be at peace
with having waited…..?
The enormity of words
crowded and clouded
failing the test of scrutiny
and the sole word
that should have been heard
was followed by but…..
Slipping through her fantasy
Well past the stars of sleep
Into the arms of Morpheus
Held safely in his keep…
Her being dwells in wonderland
No worries..not a care
The realm of possibilities
With her this great one shares..
Up in this flight of fancy
And visions all are in her grasp
While on this Magic ride…
Spirit Kissed so feather light
Heaven sent touch
from you tonight..
for this broken heart…