A letter fell through the door this morning, it had hand writing I didn’t recognise and postage marks that were also unfamiliar.
I hesitantly open the letter. Inside I found a copy of a poem I had sent someone a long time ago, now it seems that poem has returned to me, but it is more than what it once was.
Reading the letter that accompanied the poem I feel a stunned. Was I dreaming? No. I reread the letter and it finally sunk in, the poem I sent away so long ago has returned to me with a request to be published in a collective book of poetry.
This may only be a small achievement in the grand scheme of things and there are many who’s work is far more beautiful than mine, but someone somewhere for the briefest moment connected with the words I had written.
I guess there really is no story not worth hearing.
“This life we have, what is it for? Living, loving, memories or more? You can only know by going through the door.”
The wild dog sleeps in the silence
The impeding dawn is sure to rile the animal
The law will be broken by its defiance
A body will sleep at the bottom of a canal
Silence will call
A person will stand before jude, jury and the panel
Pride held high, standing tall
All keep a weathering eye
Here comes the trip, the stumble, the fall
Listen to the spouting of lies
It jumps, it bites
Tears will be shed, many will cry
It won’t let go, it’s grip to tight
To to stop, to stand, to fight.
What does it solve
What does it make you feel
What is it’s consequence
Their faces are all the same
They smile, they scowl, they play the game
There is no love lost, no remorse, no regret, only promises of pain
They scheme behind a friendly face they sustain
Their faces are all the same.
Time changes nothing, the world is still filled with madness and rage
We live, we grow, we tire and we age
Each day we take a new step, each day we turn a new page.
The light fades from a star in the sky, its time has ended.
It burned brighter than ever imaginable, suddenly a flash of light streamed across the sky and then it was gone.
This is the second time in my life I have been lucky enough to watch a stars last moments, it was not less majestic than the first time.
It only serves to put a sense, a reminder of my own mortality.
If a star that has been around for an untold amount time, unanswerable by our modern technologies can fade to nothing then so can we.
Will anyone besides me ever think about that star?
Did anyone else see its final glorious moments?
The memory will live on, even if it is only with me, but that is all anyone or anything can leave…