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Thursday, June 23, 2005

The day that wasn't

A glorious morning with bright, blue skies.
A wide-eyed doe; such lovely eyes.

The dew on the grass, so cool and moist.
The radiant sun, such a gift, such joy.

The wind-swayed trees, with rustling leaves.
The rolling hills and their grassy eaves.

I am blessed, I am blessed.
What a wonderful day.
Forever and fulfilled,
The heart, she doth sway.

And near and far, teeming life.
Dizzying, swooning, the end is nigh.

But how and where, did it appear.
Is it for real, or just in here?

For as wandering thoughts, they know no bounds.
They tread not softly, only safe and sound.

Is the doe not wounded, lifeless, limp.
Her lovely eyes, a hollow mirror.
The trees are gone, no leaves, no gimp.
The sunlight burns; a fiery horror.

How could this be? Oh, what a turn!
From life to death. What am I to learn?

Is this the world, or a simple machination?
A boon and a curse, our own imagination.

And as night falls, I sadly wonder,
Is life a promise, torn asunder?

The doe she rests, tenderly, peacefully.
Her doleful eyes, a distant memory.
And life goes on, and I, and you.
And the sun shines on, through and through.
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