poetry – Page 101 – Picking Up Roots

The Journey

what is the prize
for finishing this race first:
money, acclaim, fame -
better to think of them
as a price -
which do you take with you
when you return to the Earth;
what is the cost
of all you missed in their pursuit;
the journey is the gift -
the destination but a moment -
slow down
embrace the path

Beginnings

giving freely
of my most precious resource,
time drifts away
through my lack of consideration;
it is wasted,
I am wasted,
hollowed out
by the failure to launch myself
toward a dream
held in the heart for so long;

there is still time
to fil in his hole,
how:
begin

What the Mind Sees

silver and gray dance
in the quiet light of the mirror,
leaving their mark
in more spots than before;
eyes are fading,
a gentle blue
moving to weathered gray;
cares of a lifetime
have left their marks
in the trenches of the forehead's lines;

this is not the image
alive in the mind;
life remains there,
vibrant dreams cry out to be realized,
there is a desire to live,
to not give in to time,
to carry on;

find a way to change,
to keep going,
to feed the life
of the mind