Poetry is the common art of thinkers.
I Am
I don’t know from whence I came,
nor how this Universe began.
I care not play the guessing game,
pretending wiser than, I am.
Some theorize it’s all just fate,
while others a divine plan.
But I am not convinced, at date,
that either way will stand.
I can’t say whether I’m heaven sent,
or a peg on the wheel of doom.
But I am certainly not an accident,
Nor will I live a life of gloom.
Wake up everyone and enjoy.
Awakening
Gloomy clouds of desperation
billow through a bungled past.
Failed probabilities mangled
from a question left unasked.
Guilt straddles the back of heroes,
distraught over what might have been.
Anxiety contorts the soul,
what was, will never be again.
Hiding deep within the darkness,
cloaked with eons of denial.
A glimmer of serenity
whispers, madness is not final.
The grim prevailing ambiance
is not what it appears to be,
within it exists wisdom that
validates immortality.
What seems solid is but vapor
swirling about an Honesty.
A light long dimmed by fearfulness
and beaded with apostasy.
Press bravely through the inner mist.
Reclaim a wisdom known before.
Light of unconditional love,
resides within you ever more.