One day, how I wonder,
Will I ever get it right?
So many forces against a rally
Of Time's cadence, and where do I
Find the time to harvest the grain
Of My own mind?
Will it bear something of value,
Or will I keep starving the crop
To grow lean and resilient against
The elements of this life's offerings?
Oh, but time grows me older.
I feel it by minutes, days instead of
Years of overlapping graceful trials.
If there is such a thing as dying in
The living, than I can only hope to
Be reborn in a short while.
Under the moon I feel my wake
Pass to a close of lonely thought,
Feeling not quite right spending
All my hours lost and in these fears.
To change, to break the cocoon is
One of the hardest things under
Drenched stars, and know you're
In the darkness. Spend enough time
With squinted eyes and the light
Frightens you back. Weak and weary,
Somehow this cannot last.