By degree I feel the present turning,
as the sun yet once more comes to rise.
Eastern sky that lightens by the minute,
as it pushes heavens starlight from the skies.

One more day upon the pathway,
of where time does bid the flow.
As if by gentle stream or sometime rapids,
and fate compels the path I come to know.

Uncounted I recall repetitions,
on so many long ago, half forgotten days.
Where relentless turning of the Earth,
would shine a light upon life's awaiting plays.

Once light that shone a wonder,
on mystery and promised dreams.
Abundant in every kind of possibility,
to overflowing like flooded streams.

The flow of fate and time,
that set love and dream out upon the flow.
Until only memory of such sunrises,
is all my heart can now hope to know.

The turning will go on forever,
and so too the coming of the light.
But even at this hour I sense the dusk,
and I can feel the closeness of the night.

To dream, to love, to hope... is to live.
To be without dream, love, hope is to merely exist.

In a world where traits such as bigotry, greed, narcissism, non-empathy and some level of superiority (in ones own mind) are the key attributes to ensure success and some sense of purpose and fulfilment... I am less distressed than I should be to have failed at life.
I have come to appreciate simplicity and things that are genuine and wonder what reality looks like to the successful. Do they value a warm embrace and a soft kiss and the company of someone who likes them for who they are in the same way I do? And when (if) they feel and experience these things in a genuine way does their success still feel good when they reflect on what made them? Do they even reflect upon such things... or would they be less successful in their own minds if they saw themselves for who they are?
Can you be happy if your aspirations are something other than to love and be loved in return? Without these all is deception and you are both the deceived and the deceiver.

You step out into the world and its tendrils seek to entwine.
It takes away my hopes and all the dreams I once held as mine.

You are faced with expectations and choices so not of your own.
You come to think it not so bad when life is both empty and alone.

It becomes just easier to forget about hope and any form of dream.
Responsible to self and away from expectations endless scream.

You close the world outside behind your safeties solid door.
And give up on love and dream like clothes discarded on the floor.

You accept a life of little value and so too the feel it will never end.
All for reassurance outside consequence wont reach in to offend.

I write of being sad and lonely in many of the poems that I write.
But I am conscious, it is I who cast love and hope out into the night.

So long ago was the wonder turned to real by the Eagle flying by.
A child in awe I watched that miracle outside of Earth's blue sky.

In grainy black and white the world united in an up turned gaze.
To dream a unified dream for all, in those long ago heroic days.

A dream for all of mankind and your words they called it so.
Joint in belief of great achievement of how far our species could go.

You carried the heroes of a decade that paved a road up to that day.
You caught the minds of others and set new heroes on their way.

There was Mike and Buzz and you and yet others there would be.
Who would follow that first footstep that you left upon the sea.

Of dust both stars and we are born and so to all will each return.
But in between, dust gives a heart a need for loves' enduring yearn.
In times' course on cosmic scale all particles are drawn to another one.
And so stars and love set adrift, until once more, all but dust is gone.

Like a hungry shark has loneliness again come to feed upon my heart and mind.
Ravenous and savage it feeds upon a soul that warmth and love has left behind.
Once again a mind and heart that love avoids is to the darkness lead.
Bloodied, mauled and torn to shreds, remnant carcass left floating dead.
Never sated and without remorse it tears, as it feeds there in the empty dark.
Savagely, ever feeding, ever gnawing, ripping into my souls last hopeful spark.
Hungry, starving, ravenous and in frenzy and seemingly never fully fed.
No worth, no value, adrift, no purpose to any futures' plan but still I am not dead.
Razor teeth intent upon taking every ounce of my last mortal dream and hope.
Until mind is convinced that it's only peace is best found in a loop of sturdy rope.
This is the game that shark and loneliness play so often within my heart and mind.
The shark, the loneliness, love or a length of rope who wins I am still yet to find.