If you met the past, would you confront it? embrace it?
turn tail and run away? or stand and face it?
look each mistake and regret straight in the eye,
or shut it out and refuse to even try.
the past is what shapes us, makes us, lifts us and breaks us,
love it or hate it we cant avoid it, its life, the in-betweens and the path it takes us.

What do you do with old regrets,

There's a box full underneath my bed.

A little older now to forget,

But what do you do with old regrets.

Resting, Watching, falling at ease as the last summers twilight escapes from my sight into the darkness,
I fell asleep under the stars thinking of better and magical times within my own personal cosmic auditorium.

And in a silent calmness usually reserved for the dead, tired wondering spirits,
Which have managed to find their way home after an eternal tiresome journey, too weak to stand nor care.

I quietly whisper to myself “You could never find again or purchase moments like this”,
Then slip away into a peaceful trance as I silently slouch and crouch in awe and stare.

I think of harder times which now seem so long ago,
As my eyes grow heavy and finally draw a close.

Like the dying fire when desperate sparks ignite, bright and fight,
When its spent embers merely glow.

Oh what a lovely lucky summers night.

Suddenly I see you, moving into sight through wooded shades.
Silent, slow moving, shrouded in your dark cloak of mystery and sorrow,
Wise and cunning old bird, you exude that confident air of “Seen everything…Fear Nothing” attitude that has led others to their peril.
I stare into those cold dead eyes and wonder what untold secrets you carry that you neither wish to own nor share……
As if your soul is burdened with a heavy weight of this knowledge passed down from an ancient age and time for your keeping.
I whisper “Not today old friend”
And none the less it leaves your graceful flight unhindered as you look away and fly as if you’re moved away by tears.
Another Time.

When I’m gone,
Rip the sinews from my skin,
Grind my bones into dust,
Smelt the metals from my body,
But our eternal love... will never rust.

The eternal question.
If Immense pressure can form a diamond from atoms, rip a star apart as a supernova, turn it inside out as an endless black hole vacuum or send it hyper spinning as a violent Neutrino, then what of Man born of the same matter?
I believe in Red's Quote,
"Get busy living or get busy dying!"

Two souls and lovers entwined,
For ten years in their happy business.
Closer than two pages of a book,
Thy fell and happy where they stood.
But then one day, a promise spent,
A heart that broke and cant be mended.
My true love left without a word,
and for me that day has never ended.