A house that it took years to build
and subsequently become filled
was razed this morning in a flash,
the memories within, a pile of trash
that sentiments no longer gild;
if only the past was so easily killed
perhaps we wouldn’t have to gnash
our teeth, anticipating every crash
when someone else more iron-willed
decides our progress should be stilled.
Are You Reading Me?
5 comments:
Yeah when someone else decides such a thing
Destruction of ones self usually goes along with the wing
The self can be very durable, but yet we can let it go so easily.
i hate to see things discarded this way--you can see i am taking your wonderful words, literally today!
Oh friend why descend into a place where
no end Exists to sadness?
Our memories are gifts to guide us,
perhaps away from madness or,
To mend hearts of women and men.
Without memory of mistakes
Past; are we not condemned to do it again?
If we can learn at last that which only
failure provides for...
Can one find answers behind any other door?
There is a claim; not for fame but one that supplies us with
Answers. Questions, without
Suggestions, but a reality we know...
inside us.
Words not spoken; no covenant Broken...
can we only abide thus?
A fig tree parable; no not terrible but
the words are there to warn us.
Whatever comes We will not run, but stand
through times most perilous.
The one who gave the perfect life to save
The children and a wife.
Until the time we need not rhyme,
the warning Is:
there will be two; but only the second
One is true...claiming to be Our savior
See?
I just couldn't believe how quickly they can make things go away these days, somebody already parked there this morning.
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