Poetic Path of Undying Dreams

This path, this direction, through fields, twisted in thorny brush,
ancient ruins, carved of figures, loves, time passed, generations before me,
settling upon my soul, a sparrow, circling, landing upon my hand,
as I follow in heart, and write of these loves poetically.


I am moved backward in time, this path, this direction,
to times in unscathed earthen beds, of floral caress and the winds that carried it in heart,
long before mankind, long before battle, long before bloodshed,
to the beginning, this path, at the earth’s start.


I am moved forward in time, this path of sight in the nearing distant light,
to times where darkness is illuminated still with love,
yet likeness of stars scattered, struggling to still see them as clouds move through nightfall, tears fall,
and I follow in heart, and still of this love, I write of.


This path, this direction, through fields, twisted in thorny brush,
I stand in the present, with undying dreams, like vines climbing along the trees,
my poetic path grasps tightly, it will never be the death of a dream,
as my breath of life, will follow in spirit, in the wind, words, along the coming breeze.