YEAR TEN

 

I walked amid my ruins in the waning evening light,

My road is like a river as the day gives way to night

The mists have gathered coldly round the home that is my heart,

And winters winds that find my soul are chilling every part.

 

The year is gently turning but my dreams are of the past,

Submitting now to emptiness where none but hope may last,

Confusion rains from mental clouds and drips into the brain,

Where memories and closed regrets combine to stir the pain.

 

We walk through life like journeymen the skills within in our touch,

We love benignly or with fear but never love too much,

We hold to things thought precious though we lose them in the end

We break our hearts most willingly without the will to mend.

 

The years that treat me kindly I embrace with lover’s lust,

With simple things to save and share with those I love and trust,

The food upon the table and the roof above my head,

The welcome warmth that sweeps my soul when I climb into bed.

 

The ruins I’ve created are ambitions rich reward,

These dragons they pursue me till I put them to the sword,

Like solitude and loneliness they’re better cast away,

Like resolutions promised by we creatures made of clay

 

If god there is then passively he watches from above,

We‘re more designed for enmity than wired hard for love,

Despite the fact with passion we can sing him hymns of praise,

We’ll not consign our heresies to perish in his blaze.

 

And so a year of promise where our promise should be just,

The ribbon road that we all walk should now be paved with trust,

We cannot blame the Pharisee if we pass by as well,

For paved with good intentions is the golden road to hell.

 

Not making resolutions may be simply for the best,

For committing to a promise means someday I’ll face the test,

With warmth and food and platitudes my life is hard to beat,

And what care I if half the world has not enough to eat.

 

And so I’ll close the circle, raise the barricades and more,

I’ll scurry from the spectre that is lurking by the door,

Enjoined to heavens mercy I will beg for inner grace,

But god forbid I have to look my neighbour in the face.

 

And so back to the ruins and the road that took me there,

Some think this road is sorrow and a reason for despair,

But in the end I trust my soul avoids this hangman’s rope,

By slaying yearly dragons with the gentle sword of hope.