I have written about joys lived
and unhappiness suffered
for many days and years.
The pages break time down.
Line after line ties my body
to ink on bound paper.
The spirit travels by moving
forward and backward
between today and the past.
I hope to not have to choose
with my last act of free will
between becoming a drop
in the ocean or remaining myself
or vanishing into nothingness.
Some sort of combination
depending upon my mood
sounds nice. To not have
sunsets and the laughter
of a beloved surrounding
me on a calm evening
seems like a loss. Will I care?
I hope so. And, after all has been said
and done, I hope that my cares
blend with the cares of others
in some peaceful and decent way.
A Thread You Follow 