Poetry-Thing Thursday: An Ocean of Time

The wolf paces in its cage,
awaiting an uncertain certainty;
an end will come.
Change has begun.
But whether his jailer,
shall be his executioner,
is a question only time may answer.

Alone in a dark and empty room,
sits a clown in full dress.
His white face is painted,
running black and red from tears.
For time has come and gone,
And still it carries on,
with it life goes,
for good or for ill.

Cuffed and shackled,
she hangs from the wall.
Dead eyes staring,
in testimony to a decayed soul.
And though she yet breathes,
her master will one day,
ensure she withers, bleeds.

Amid an ocean of time,
sails a ship of all existence.
Universes of countless beings,
multiplied by infinity.
And each one a story.
Each one a saga,
an epic.
Each one an odyssey.
And all of them
cohabit this place and time.

In the end,
an ocean of time,
is only the water,
upon which,
existence has sailed.

And we are it,
However short or long,
our place on its line.
we occupy it,

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Ever Surging

Energy and mass,
behind space-hardened glass:
a blast from the past,
and gift from the last,
generation that lived,
and might be forgived,
for the evils they did,
and the madness they hid.

But for now we speed on,
thinking of stars gone,
and suns we’d prolong,
if only with bong.
For even eternity’s short,
within proper court,
the kind we hold closed,
and kiss like a rose’d.

For in the end,
we have been a friend,
to those far behind,
though never in mind.
For we’ve blazed the trail,
both hands off the rail,
and even those yet to come,
will benefit greater than some.

Fear of our future’s passed,
from wisdoms amassed,
though frightful the mass,
of energy-glass,
and the sounds of vacuum,
or the silence it assumes,
for no matter the danger,
we’ve met no strangers.

And instead only greatness,
which in our wake’s less,
when matched with what,
we see ahead but,
is ever beyond,
our primordial pond.
So we carry on,
every surging,
ever anon.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Our Rise

One day Mars
will be as inhabited
as the earth,
from upon which
we gaze up at the stars.

There we’ll look up,
into a new sky.
Imagine that.
What will we have seen,
when we say good-bye?

And when the universe itself,
fades to black,
what will all of our existence,
have measured to, having begun,
as but a dust-mote on a shelf.

Though it may be,
billions of years
perhaps billions more than that,
will we last?
Or succumb to our fears?

Perhaps we’ll have seen,
or at least dreamed,
of our greatness being sown,
and our species’ rise,
from the blue and green.

This marble unto which,
we once were born:
shall it have been forever our prison?
Or will the cage have we flown,
looking to the stars we adorn?

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Last Page Requiem

One last page on which to pen my thoughts.
One final word to be had.
A single series of lines,
letters, and words to be written,
before yet another clean slate.

I must reflect,
on what has come since,
the first of my ink touched these pages,
and there I find myself now.

Time and dedication;
the soul of all great things.
The sum of man’s endeavors,
can be found to contain these.

Am I any different?
Might any of us be?
After all we,
as me,
are Human.
Our muse, imagination,
our benefactor, perspiration.

The total of sweat, blood, tears,
is the product of divinity–
not the kind of myths,
nor Gods or deities,
instead that of hope and passion,
the welled ink of creation.

So on this last page, a requiem,
for all that’s come and gone,
in order to depart from the past,
and continue on into an even greater future.