Tuesday, June 07, 2016

*Wandering Soul*




Remembered sunshine trickles down among my thoughts,
Summer fragrance, lazy, golden warmth.
The memory hovers, within my grasp, a glimpse of shadows, and then gone.
The past is tiny colored fragments with no form to make an image from.
Did, once, I live, feel the dark, rich earth between my hands?
Did I leave footprints in the sand? The image fades; it is forgot.
I glide away upon the moon's slipstream and cast no shadow on the land.

For I am nothing, I am no one; the lightest breath caressing your cheek,
A whisper of breeze that lifts your hair, murmuring softly, but cannot speak.
Nor can I hear a distant echo of a voice, once mine.
Had I a name? I don't recall. These things are lost among the mists of time.

I am nothing, I am no one, but I am free...
Free to dance across the water's sheen, sail across the sky,
Admire a frosted, crystal moon, as it paints the earth with platinum light,
Feel the sunset melt the dazzling blue,
Spill down into a molten sea and sink from view.

Such splendor, the wonders I could share,
But I drift along a solitary plane.
Of my presence, you are unaware.
A mote of dust upon a sunbeam,
The shimmer on a web, fine spun,
A reflection in a raindrop,
I am nothing, I am no one.

The Genie

5 comments:

  1. Beautiful
    Bravo to you my friend . Hope you are keeping them together in a folder , your grands may enjoy sharing them with their kids .
    PIC

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you PIC
    I appreciate the praise very much and value your opinion.
    PIC

    ReplyDelete
  3. Great poem, it's funny how we were just talking about something just like it afterward. Xoxo.


    Jake

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thank you Jake
    I am so happy you like my poems. I enjoyed our talk. It really makes you wonder about such things. The problem being, no one comes back to tell us what happens when we die so we have to draw our own conclusions.
    Gunny

    ReplyDelete

Through this ever open gate
None come too early
None too late
Thanks for dropping in ... the PICs