Do you count your years in minutes passed,
each moment lived a memory refined—
a never-ending loop of lows and highs?
The passages of time wash with the tides
and in the passing hangs the soul, defined.
It’s really not a case of win or loose
the lessons learned, the wounds that leave us scarred;
but there’s a price to everything we choose…
there is no cheating boatman once we cross,
just foreboding in not knowing what we’ll find.
So we linger in each blissful moment seized
find comfort in the warmth of those we love,
while warding off the hurts that would consume:
—injustices oppression, fallacies—
transgressions that could taint to make us blind.
Awaiting intercession from Divine,
we come to find the truth within our hearts:
all loves and friendships forged, or lost in kind
endure like glowing embers in our mind—
to light our journey on this path unmarked
…yet blind and voiceless, do the gods concede;
their explanations lost on winter breeze.
© Ginny Brannan 2017