Time’s Close

To be at time’s close,
A mark in place,
A locality, held, suspended, in being.

The passing nature of everything,
Being in a moving moment,
Passing relative,
Through marked moments.

To be at time’s close.

Comes a reminder,
Motive, time, feeling.
At the close, stands an opening.

This place,
A new beginning,
My new eyes, sights to greet me.

At time’s close.

Had a tumultuous week. Not been sad, but been feeling empty, luckily most of it I have been okay, been kept busy by work, a lot of work. Kept me from thinking.

Back about a week, things got confusing, hectic, luckily today, things have finally gotten okay, uncertain but okay, something to go through. Hope for. I’ll try. That’s all I can do. So much is going well with everything recently.

It’s looking up.

More of an abstract poem, describing thoughts and feelings of my own into a random abstract mass of collected ideas.

Looking Through That Window

Looking through that window,
On into the distant horizon,
Hand on the glass,
Trying to touch the image.

A reality beyond my access,
The cold glass,
The warm horizon.
A world away.

All time passing in the landscape.
While I’m trapped, inside a time stuck. Still.
Looking out past this glass,
Into the the warm sunset,
That I cannot feel.

Waiting, wanting, thinking.
Feeling the yearning.
But beyond this glass barrier,
All I have is a numbing barrier.

The cold glass on my skin,
Cold eyes,
Going numb and tired.
Tired of,
Looking through that window.

The world,

Behind the glass I find myself placed.
Staring out,
Out into the world.

Trapped in this place,
Behind this glass,
A barrier to feeling,
To touch.

But then there’s that warmth,
A small flame of hope,
Just over that horizon.
Just beyond,
To be reached for,
To be found.

But for now.
I find myself.
Looking through that window.
The cold of the glass.

Looking through that window.

Thinking of a person I haven’t seen in a long time, they helped me so much. I kinda miss them. Miss them. But they’re probably busy and have a lot going on. But still. Remember the goodbye. But oh well. Time always passes.

I’m not sad, just thinking, I guess this is a storyesque poem then, kind of. I’m actually quite happy, having almost finished all my essays, in plenty of time. Also listening to a kinda sad song.

Out from the Nettles and into the Rose

Out from the nettles and into the rose,

Away from the sting, the itch,

Toward the scent, the breath of fresh air, the warm embrace.

Your beauty shines, all encompassing, you have your thorns,
So do I, I can help, just as you have.

I want to help,
Just as you do.

Out from the nettles and into the rose,
I see the beauty in the world I had lost,
I see the beauty I had missed,

I see the beauty, I can now see again,
Thank you sweet-scented rose,
Thank you lushious, loving, warm Ruby-rose red,
For showing me, the colours life can bring.

For taking me, from the nettles and into the rose.