Old photographs lining shelves
give me no insight
as to where I’ve been
and absolutely no indication
of where I am to be
let alone
how to get there
There was a time when it didn’t matter
days were lived
one right after another
without
a
single
thought
as to what it all meant
and dreams
were nothing more than a side effect of sleep
Only after awakening
did the dreams, not of sleep
but of soul
unfold
Where is the clarity
the still waters
the guideposts?
The tides are high
and the road tangled
with uncertainty
and doubt
when all I thought I knew once
vanished
Beautiful.
Thank you Sir. ♥
You have a beautiful way of writing!:)
Thank you so much. I am honored to be read by you.