Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 3, 2015

Daily missive breaks into the weekend Sunday the 3rd of May.~by Peter Forster



Daily missive breaks into the weekend Sunday the 3rd of May.

Hold, this talk
Of changing winds,
Tides that ebb and flow
With the wax and wane
Of a moon, that
In its own pale reflection
Affects the maintenance
Of a stable constitution.
Or, that in the turn
Of just one day
Flowers will both bloom and die,
Nothing compares
To the change that comes
Between the drawing
Of one breath and the next.
When, with the shallowest
Of inhalations
Outlooks so wildly turn.
A mood at once serene
Will rise and fall,
From peak to trough,
And out of nowhere,
Not even from the thinnest air,
That fills the hairline gap
Between blinking
And a swallow,
From a place that
Nestles in the space
Between believing
And in knowing,

There is a sudden
Shift, that seems to
Blacken every
Single drop of colour
And fills the air with
Doubt and gloom.
How come
This unkindest cut of all?
When it falls on me
I am obliged to change it.
I must not let
This internal switch
Dictate my entertainment,
With my engagement,
Cause damage to my relations.
I must embrace this man
Too easily moved away from,
Reject the whim of humour,
The subtle change from day to day
That tilts the disposition,
And so disorientates
Those who love me.
If I want these
Days to be filled with
Hope and treasure,
I must measure myself
Against the man
I try to be,
And guard against
Such self determined thinking,
Today, tomorrow
And every other single day.

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