Tags
age, As it ever was, creative, Depression, hope, loss, nostalgia, poems, poetry, time, verse, writing
And when at last the dust
That had crept into our eyes and
Scratched its frozen images
Deep within our hearts and minds
Began to fall
Did we find that we had found
All that we were looking for
The prizes and rewards that we
Had promised ourselves
So many lifetimes before?
Or did our vista still contain the
Dreams that we had always known
Were nothing more than that
No more than the pictures that we
Had painted with the hands
Of children fleeing from the night?
And all the promises that we had cast
Like yarrow stalks, now pebbles on the beach
Had given up their secrets to the sea
And washed themselves with the briny tears
That we had shed so freely
Thinking that they would be gone
Spent like the pennies we cherished in
The youth we dreamed away so soon
Before we learned to mourn its death
And let the black sank deep within
A storm that never passed
The ghost of all the days we thought
Would one day come to life
And take our hands
And lead us to all that grew on trees so near
So far from reach
But now through thinly veiled eyes
The scratches fall away
And through the sinking mists we see
All as it ever was.
© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2021
chrisnelson61 
Oomphhh Chris. Heavy-hitting and gorgeously written all at once.
Well, I had to provide a little balance against ‘Change’! Seriously though I am delighted that this hit home and yet remained ‘readable’. Thank you.
I’ve told myself a thousand times – you promised yourself you wouldn’t and yet here I am.
I’m trying to imagine now what it would feel like if we could remain true to ourselves in the true sense of the word. Oh, ah, oh….
Yes, something I do ponder. Is it even possible, given that we are, by nature, sociable (or unable to exist is isolation, depending on your pov.). Glad this got you thinking.
You always get me thinking, Chris.
☺
This poem reminds me of the question of “Is there such a thing as Karma given Stalin died in peacefully his sleep at the age of 75. Many of us dream but do not have the willpower or belief that make those images real. As you can see, you have got me going with another excellent poem. I hope all is reasonably good with you and yours
All good thanks, and thank you for your response to this, Peter, if it got you thinking then the job is done. Karma? Lovely idea, but experience leads me to doubt it.
I’m not a believer in Karma myself. Both Stalin and Mao Tse Tung died peacefully in their beds after being responsible for large numbers of deaths. Oh well, there’s always cheese sandwiches!
I’m glad that you have got a good sense of perspective here, Peter – fresh bread, butter, an apple and a large chunk of Lancashire and let the world turn!