The once turgid expectations

Become saturated with haste,

As seconds, repeatedly, seem

To fall to waste.


The now blossoming promises

Of isolated “opportunities”

Allow tumultuous time to defeat

The hauntings of our insecurities.


The separation - from routine

Will embellish jaded skills:

Unleashing creativity

Finally driven by natural thrills!


The future for once

Excites, No pain...

As slowly I learn

To know myself again.

Butterflies suspended,

Dangled on string.

Promises of the wealth

That the future will bring.


But when entrapment

Becomes something of a win

The question introduces itself:

Under what order are we living in?

Passing places -

Green tufts,

On empty waste.

Pillaged by -

The promise of sun.

Frozen buds,

Search for growth.

In spaces

That offer sleep -

And nothing else.

Until that great

Day may come,

Things stay the same,

Forever stagnant.

Until the passing

May be undone.

The crevices of physicality

Sink deeper,

Yet the jewells of originality

Grow steeper.

Erasing the short-comings

Of distancing years,

Ignoring the elderly’s hummings,

And death’s fears.

You stand bold and proud;

Forever young,

Within life’s merry-go-round.

For the joy you have created

Is endless and ongoing;

And the love that you ignite

Is forever growing.