You watching the world
And I there
To reflect on it
Tag: Thoughts
Lake House Thoughts
I had taken a vacation from reality
And finally had to leave town
In order to find it again
To share is human:
Abandoned Outlet Mall
With age
People lose interest
And it’s no longer worth the drive
Wait
I was talking about an outlet mall
Right?
To share is human:
love we’re meant to feel
where is the love we’re meant to feel?
is it just stories we’ve been told?
where is the hope that gets made real,
staying with us as we get old?
i’ve got no answers here, of course:
(i have no talent for certainty)
but maybe, the love we’re meant to feel
has to be built
out of you
and me
To share is human:
Immersive Wonder
I rose and walked at dawn,
The dark to dwell upon —
But then I saw the birds and sea:
I don’t know, honestly
So words are often wise,
But then turn into lies –
All character’s a mystery;
I don’t know, honestly
My grandson and I play
Upon the floor all day.
The time just flies, he’s only three –
I don’t know, honestly
But here, beside the shore
I’ll stand and think some more –
The world seems strange – or is it me?
I don’t know,
Honestly
To share is human:
Cannot Stop
He cannot stop the wind that blows,
He could not stop the rain;
He cannot stop the way time flows
And bring her back again
But he can see her in his mind –
An early summer day –
He cannot bring her back, but she
Will never go
Away
To share is human:
And Now, The Sun Goes Down
And now, the sun goes down, and I’m alone,
To drive the last few hours in the dark;
I am the only one, the road’s my own,
The emptiness around me, rather stark
The countryside is beautiful and hale,
And could convince me that I am, as well;
Except my rear-view mirror tells a tale,
Of middle-age, and looking much like hell
The pain inside my back will not subside,
So I must to my doctor go, at last;
But that’s for later in the coming week,
For now, this last long time will need to pass
Before I turn my headlights into home.
For everything, and all I have, is here:
There is no other place that I might roam
For everything,
And all I have,
Is here
To share is human:
Compartments
A life is a series of compartments
And
When we’re in one, it’s hard, sometimes,
To believe the others really ever existed.
With time,
It feels as though
Our own past
Happened to someone else, entirely.
In a different compartment
On a different train
On some distant planet.
When we’re children, life has
An amazing amount of unity:
Still, even then,
We have whole periods of our own young lives
We do not remember at all.
Houses we formally lived in
Rooms that saw our essence exposed
Left behind
Just another in a series of
Compartments
And
In some cases,
People get left behind in them.
At least, for me,
For all my talk of love,
There is this paradox –
I claim love as eternal,
But,
Leave people behind who I’ve loved
I wander now through
My old neighborhood
And see our old house
Where we first lived together
Where
Our children grew up
Grew angry
Grew indifferent
Grew beautiful
And which sits empty now
Once the locus of
All our myriad hopes
Just another abandoned
Building
In an out of the way city
Forgotten.
I attended a funeral yesterday.
I did not know the man who died.
His family had a hard time remembering
Much about him.
There were tears,
But there was also
A certain blankness.
As though trying to remember
A past life, or,
Perhaps,
Like trying to remember
The room you were born in
Too many compartments ago
For we are constantly reborn
And constantly
Forgetting
