Lighting New Fires

Trees against the landscape.
Light and dark, a microcosm
of your spirit, neither fish nor fowl,
never quite good enough,
never quite evil. A metronome
of humanity, walking in the first light
of the morning, wind rustling the leaves,
as you shake off the demons,
stop often to meditate, reaching
for what is in your heart, just out of reach
in a foggy brain, not quite what it was,
more than it deserves, a journeyer
with a world of loss left behind,
each loss whittling away a bit of you,
making it imperative, Imperitive I say
that you keep walking forward
to see what is next,
to light new fires
before the darkness
catches you.

About this poem

A poem of older age. A poem of the journey. A poem of awareness that every moment matters. Something of a brain dump. Poetry, after all, is never about one thing.

The picture was taken at a nearby state park.

Tom