Through The Cracked Window (Revisited)
A poetry site. (If you like this post please click, "Follow," on the right menu.)
And even the birds and trees obey. “Rest your weary heads, for I will guard you from those who would disturb”
“You, my loyal friends I hold closest in the quiet time among days.”
A miniscule amount of time expanded in our perception can lead to a seemingly long lifetime.
If times perception could be expanded then a life cut short by Illness or anything could be perceived as being longer.
Now all lives would be truly individualized as we each travel a unique personal vector.
Stoic Poetry
Days pass by with you,
And yet still I am here,
But would I be, but for you?
The love I hold for you,
Never wavers, it is true.
When I am lost I look for you.
Would days end without you?
Would the sun still rise?
Here I remain, just for you.
Stoic Poetry
There is so little left to us,
A world tattered and torn,
Remnants of a quiet place,
Beauty left, tired, forlorn.
Used and discarded,
Shadows so full of scorn
Desolate and abandoned
Grey skies are born
Days are short, nature rests,
Shadow life, to be born,
A sullen sky heeds the call,
Destiny waits to be shorn.
Stoic Poety
The days ran past,
Unseen and so fast.
This is no longer my time,
Things I thought were mine.
Days when I was stronger,
Now I give back what I took.
Out of focus, as it fades away,
Fallen leaves, a babbling brook.
Heed the growing call,
The signs are all there.
They have been all along,
But no one seems to care.
The poet hums his song,
Hear the flowing notes.
But they may be wrong,
Things that I have wrote.
Stoic Poetry
The wind bends low, a quiet tune,
Shadows dance where daylight fades.
We hold the moments, breaking soon,
In this life of shifting shades.
A single word, a whispered name,
Can shift the weight of what we see.
The sky may change, yet stays the same,
And hides the vast eternity.
Why do we ache, our voices still,
When love’s the echo we all bring?
Within the heart, a tender will,
Life turns, and softly starts to sing.
Stoic Poetry
I will be laid in foreign soil
To words I can’t understand
Few will stand in solemn view
Upon this distant land
I never learned the language
Always twisted on my tongue
Maybe had I come sooner
That battle could have been won
A short time was all that was left
A search for peace without toil
And now I have finally found it
Beneath this foreign soil
Stoic Poetry
this time of year hugs
with chill (a lover’s bite)
uncurling from
the heart’s dear solstice
seasons (unrushed) weave
a tapestry of gold
in the frigid air;
rebirth must grasp the cold
Stoic Poetry
I’ve been to the edge of darkness
in a world of endless nights.
I’ve seen what forever looks like,
in the darkest place of life,
and I’ve come back to tell you,
that living is worth the fight.
We were born to feel,
the sun on our skin,
our souls are made of light.
Stoic Poetry
I have touched the growing darkness,
At the edge of the endless night,
I have touched it and forever grown, now I know what love is truly like.
The battle that must be, will be worth the struggle and the rain,
We eventually come to a final realisation,
That our souls are made up of light, and not only pain.
Stoic Poetry
I am but one of many voices lost
Have you heard my plea, the cost?
But you are you, and I am me
And our connection will likely never be
I am the speaker others read and ponder
If only one reads a line and maybe wonders
My lifelong quest may be done
Please God tell me I am not the only one
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It seems the only thing we are not capable of
I am old and my tears fall dry
If only I knew; knew there were ones left to cry.
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 