In Reflection

Whose words flow now from these fingers?
Surely not my own; the world now somehow smaller
Age reminds me, this time is mine alone.
Spark memories now, from whose mind did this flow?

Mist of times past, lives lived, now sleep, uneasy dreams
As long forgotten, some things never meant to last.
Speak to me as ghosts in a dream, a whisper in a quiet moment
Voice of an old man, mislead me no longer

Release me to sleep as the hour outlives the plan.
Glory past, as spent coppers to flowers
Release me from bonds and promises made in hast
Life’s lie, so clear, stones cast, ripples upon a pond

Stoic Poetry


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s