Lands afar…#318

(Fiction Poetry)

Lands afar…

Why does the mind’s eye not see the future?

Does a fog of mystery covering our soul’s

intentionally obscure visions of tomorrow?

I am aware of the squirrels rustling the dead

leaves beneath the thorny rose bush in the

light of the moon?  Cold and exposed, patiently

waiting for the season of bloom.

My garden once alive lies still, a hint of

summers perfume lingers in the fall air.  Now

cradled in the arms of Mother Earth, waiting

for its new birth.

I think of the now, disease and war a threat to

fallow soil, will the power of war come to us

once more?  Would the human intellect be able

to cope with the naked landscape of truth?

Only in lucid dreams do I find tomorrow, a golden

glow of the future.  The seasons will change, Will

I see the orange lilies show their tinted face; the

snowball bush bud; will they all still know me.

Only the spirit knows the endless land beyond

tomorrow, will I no longer be?  A new season, new

life, one where choices can be made, a prisoner to

the past, or will I be free.

Spikes of the moon now fall upon the coatless oak

tree; nothing has ever belonged to me, nature, and

my life.  I will be gone I will be free; I will be in the world afar.

Perfection with a new birth

Tranquility with a new birth

Infinity comes with a new birth

Why is the mind’s eye blind to the acceptance of

just living for today?    

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