we can all feel you.
old demons may haunt,
but patience
steadily engulfs being.
what awaits, in
the millennial boomerang;
will man not escape?
We are told the end, is certainly
not yet.
even the wealthy ones,
await the
saving graces
of the knowledge,
of the mundane.
what makes a man rich, anyway?
what in the heart,
can be known, by man himself.
therefore:
each sunrise,
face spritely with
renewed spirit, for the
grey of winter dawns.
this is living,
it always has been.
the embattlements,
of experience.
with each season,
in & out - I am
invigorated by her breath!
open the window wide,
chill the air
with your nostrils.
the best way is always through,
Frost says.
Let peace abide, in an
understanding
of the seasons, wrought
through history's window.
sometimes thoughts 73
