Time Marches On

Time marches on,
but things can change.
The flow of life is the same,
but we can spin away.

Find a place to abide;
a life to call your own.
Find a way to live;
a way to feel alive.

All the road blocks,
will guide your way.
Till you are strong enough,
to crush them all.

That path of least resistance,
is how the water flows.
Carving a river, a gorge,
a valley,...

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Life is not just living day to day,
Or Pay to Pay, 
Like work - eat - sleep – repeat
Is not the way to behave.
Life is about being bold and being brave,
You have a life to save – your own!

Life is nothing but a finite number of seconds untill they’re bare,
And if Time is the true currency of life, then a real rich man invests it with care.

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Funny how time goes by

It goes fast and slow at once

But it never stops

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Ticking Clocks

In cold ice blocks

Frozen, Melting

Time

Tear drops drip

With every tick

Light years keep on flying

Love found it's place

In empty space

Leaving lovers feeling lost

Can hearts read maps,

Bring fire back,

Or forever tread

On Frost?

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How Did It Get So Late So Soon?

The man who scared the ghosts away,

The woman who healed wounds with a kiss,

I think of them more nowadays

In sad and troubled times like this.

No longer there to hug the pain

From tired bones and broken hearts,

To shield you from the winter rain

That permeates where old age starts.

The back garden is over-grown,

The kitchen i...

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She is a crone,
a flowing vapor,
an invisible river--
Too fast? Too slow?
What she is? I don't know.

...but I'm caught in her tow
and must go with the change
perpetually to grow in age
sands through a glass
either gold dust or waste

A tree of possibility
her leaves transform seasonally
to fertilize the hope of summer dreams

A personal providence?
Or a bad joke of chance?
...

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hinterlands intact,

forests not a hell,

grass not wheat,

soft cold rain fell

heavens doing what

open clear skies do,

pilgrims of sunlight,

days honestly new

no forever anymore,

now the foe is time,

some end's in sight,

verses don't rhyme

tarnished the sward,

ox-skulls bleaching,

toll paid for a blind,

low, over-reaching

truths die...

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there's a point on the map when

doubts and desapir veer to meet

and idly parade nowhere down a

lonely slum of a one-way street

no compass charts this latitude

where time gross reality bends

for its a quarter of lifeless loss

the geography where love ends

I've drifted here so many times

its memories my endless bane

before me for I sense a reprise

I am sure...

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