Poetry

Gossip murmuring, swirling, following. Behind hands, or blatant in its visibility. Have you heard? Did it really? Must be true, not surprised, not surprised, not surprised.

In the looking glass I see a version of this life that blurs the more I look. Like a hall of mirrors, I am reflected back in endless ways seen differently by strangers by you by me.

The wonder of each new day’s dawn when the night has been too long The purity of raindrops left when the storm has passed along The ideal of living slowly when the world won’t stop for you The honesty of

Temptation to do the things we shouldn’t do leads us to places we shouldn’t go: out of bounds, we view events not meant for us, that pale and fade, so far are they beyond our understanding. And yet, still we

let wonders entwine and weave dreams that entice you to embrace chance let words encircle and snare ideas that excite as you embrace life let arms enfold and bring warmth that elicits a need to embrace love let passion envelope

At first it falls like ash, a dusting that blurs and softens. Shades of grey that mute and hide, a world unmade. Later a heaviness descends muffling, a deadening silence. All is white, a blanket covering mistakes once made but

Enchantment falters, in the face of despair as contentment leaves us, alone with regret. Let down and forgotten, the luster of illusion gives way to grim reality, reflected in defeat. Fortune lost to mistrust, as lies told in defense of

Pride comes before a fall. Proverb There is a moment: sense (of self and worth) expands, and teeters on the edge of self-importance. There is a moment: pulse (of airs and graces) heightens, and quivers on the brink of pretension.

When all is said and done, and all our stories silenced, what will history remember of battles won, and lost?