These endless days continue onward,
like waves flowing out into the sea
only to become dull, gray echoes
lost within the ocean.

The hands on the clock reach for me,
slowly making their way to my throat
and even as I flee their inescapable grip
I hear the closing “Click. Click. Click.” of their boot heels.

My days are a damned torrent of tomorrows,
a neverending nightmare in which novelty
is the only saving respite –
yet it erodes as well…

I want to make these moments mean something –
to regain the vigor of my youthful days
when I was a God in my back yard
and every day was a gift to be unwrapped.

I want to blow away the dust gathered on my heart,
sweep out the cobwebs collected in my soul,
and banish the stifling and stagnant air
so I can breathe again.

This life is mine and mine alone.
I refuse to spend my time running away.
Living is something that must be seized
and this is the moment I awaken from my daze.

1 Comment

  1. Really nice. “…the vigor of my youthful days
    when I was a God in my back yard
    and every day was a gift to be unwrapped.”
    LOVE it! Very visual and makes me look back!

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