When we wait too long…


What becomes of the words when we wait too long? When it is too late, when the chance to utter them is lost. Do we hold them, captive in our mind, waiting for opportunities that will not come? Do we send them in a prayer, a wish, abandoning them to the winds, trusting that they will find their way? Do we write them, longhand on paper, and allow flames to consume their curves?



Silent, yet unquiet.

Perhaps they seep, over unmeasured time, from our soul and into the world.

When the light falls softly on the land, and the change of the season is close enough to taste, they flit through the skies, seeking those who would hear,

But cannot listen.









  1. Reverse. Back your truck from the grave and move towards the cradle. Skip lightly, gaily, as you follow the minutiae of life. Linger on happiness if you like; fickle that you are. Lay down in sorrow if that would suit you better. It matters not. It ends. It begins. The cycle reverses. Park it. Sit. Be free. Teach a pebble how to worry. Then laugh.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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