Life is a passing page that tries not to fade
Memories are but a passage of footsteps
Flipping from past to present looking back on what I resent
The worst days to birthdays make who I am my name
Can't be astray from a path cannot fulfill
The goal of life is death but it leaves us all distressed
Our legacy is merely determined by who remembers us
Eventually we all just leave our footsteps bound to the ground
The mound of who we once were, but a mark in the earth
For now I can't see how big or wide those footsteps may be
But telling myself they are there helps me sleep.

On a sunny, warm day,
Under a blue sky, with,
White puffy clouds on the horizon,
On a seaside beach,

Sitting alone, thinking of what life will bring.

I glimpsed an Angel,
Dressed in white.

Her wings spread wide, like she just arrived.

So mystifying she is,
Walking through the ocean mist.

She appears in front of me,
She lifts me up,
How can I feel trust for someone I do not know?
She says, “Hello my friend.  Do you remember me from long ago? Please walk with me.”

"Tell me how has your life been?"
"Tell me of your happy times,"
"Tell me your sad times,"
"Tell me of your lonely times,"

We walked and talked for hours.
Then she said, “Don't ever feel lonely. I will always be here to lift you up. Just remember me.”

I turn to give her a hug and say thank you.
Where did you go?
She has vanished into thin air,
Have I been talking to myself?

A strong ocean breeze pushes my head down,
Then, I see two sets of footsteps in the sand.

Yes, I remember you from so long ago my Angel...


Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

If you were to look closely,

You'd see;

How the shadows follow their helpless folks at night, perhaps lost themselves.

You'd see;

The eery echo of footsteps belonging not to the human themselves, but their thoughts, their paranoia

For they're not alone, they are never alone

Hush! Hush!

Don't let the them know you're listening -
Don't allow them to control your very existence,

What do you hear at night?
When all is quiet and the gentle buzz of life has composed itself, now simmering

What do you hear at night?
Silence? Or worse, the benign yet firm whisperings of your mind.

If you were to look closely,
(which I suggest you do not)
You'd see things beyond your realm of understanding.

Don't look, don't ever look closely again.

You are grey and boring
And slowly fading
Like old paint,
Like a dream at dawn.
You are disappearing
Into darkness
Like a shadow on the wall.
You are vanishing
Like the sound of your voice
Saying I want you,
Like the sound of your footsteps
Moving towards the door.
There is nothing any more.


F.Z.N

My heart breaks with every step.
Because the further I walk,

*the smaller you get.

it won't be easy
to follow the footsteps
of our forefather's  dreams

  their faith,
  their dreams
  and hopes.


Yet, the pains taking hours
it make the time well spend
So as the falcon's soar above
their winsome ways inspired.