Impermanence

Did I know, in that
first moment, it
would not last, and
that each beat of
the dream, was
being counted by
the Fates, in sure
steady diminishing
of what was? How
can anyone know
what the future
holds, or if, the
deep being of this
Now will endure?
It is in the green
fields of the wild
unknown, that we
lose ourselves, as
we must on this
pure, painful, and
irrevocably human
voyage of becoming.
To know is to lose
the ways of dreams
and hope, and to tie
ourselves to some
thing which may
be no more than a
sojourn on the path
of our lives. That
which makes our
hearts beat sure
and steady, cannot
be known, for then
time stops....... and
the gift we have is
in collecting those
stopped moments.

Red Rose

Drowned in scarlet
is the rose, releasing
sweet perfume, calling
to the butterflies, and
serenading bees. So
this ancient flower,
fluffs petals to the
wind, unravels from
the bud, blossoms on
a whim. Delicate but
strong, rooted to the
earth; spiked through
stem and twig, glory
surely birthed. Aeons
in the making, ages
lost in dreams, so the
rose in redness spreads,
opens wide; redeems.

https://dversepoets.com/2020/02/18/poetics-to-be-a-flower/#comment-201578

Called

The moment called,
convincing, with
resolute disdain, of
shattered hopes and
fantasies, where no
thing did remain.
And so the hours
quiet, the minutes
in tight step, as days
disdjointed cowered;
with sanity bereft.
The moment called,
forgiving, with no
thing to be read, and
yet the face of death
revealed, so much was
left unsaid; remote
and falling quickly,
through lost and
torrid times, the step
was taken slowly,
toward new life,
new mind. As if
within the calling,
all tears were left
behind, with little
to remember; and
so is fate enshrined.