Because yesterday was a chapter
written in words, actions and emotions
that should never define this day.
For it's what you make of it.
Revel in the present.
Because all that had transpired
only led to this moment.
You can't change yesterday for today.
But you can change now for tomorrow.
Enjoy the now.
Because the second that has just passed
has no anchor on you.
All that is experienced will fall away.
Committed to memory and learning
with the dawning of next morn's sun.
Anticipate the future.
Because it belongs to you.
It will wait and it will come.
And when it does, it will be beautiful.
Simply because you're celebrating today,
embracing the present,
savouring this second
and looking forward to tomorrow.
What is this line that separates us?
Why this lone tape that cordons our spaces?
Who assigned the thread that parts land and sky; earth and the heavens?
How is it that a boundary could be invisible yet bind so sure?
Which of us was given the right to reinforce... to validate this demarcation?
So what is this line that separates us?
A hiatus I believed...
To be well deserved and timely.
For too long I've spilled
upon non-judgemental paper.
For too long I've relied much
on the soothe of the written word.
A hiatus I thought...
Was necessary for I,
strive to go crutchless.
I strive to stand on my own.
But my legs are not yet strong.
And my fingers are jonesing
because my heart still bleeds ink.
The last autumn leaf had fallen.
A gust had taken it off its perch
and sent it earthbound.
It relished its slowed descent
only to be cradled by the bosom of the ground.
Then winter had been upon us.
Leaving us cold, desolate and empty.
Loneliness wielded a reckless brush
and had painted the backdrop
of our minds with vast whiteness
accentuated by the greys of uncertainty.
The leaf froze and crumbled to dust.
Just as we would have if not for
the mantra of hope.
dreams might again spring forth.
Engulfing and taking us home.
We'd journey through scented spring -
soaking up the amber of days
and the fragrance of flowered fields.
We'd run our fingers over the tops of tall
We sing the same chorus
as we turn our heads towards
the suns of summer.
A haven where we believe all is hale
and the fires in our hearts
will once again be rekindled.