this day . . .

this day

the light of the Sun

filtering through my eye lashes

restoring the glint in my eye

warmth

recognition

contemplation

on my path

watching my footstep in the yard

imprints of me

behind me

and footsteps

waiting to be fulfilled

ahead of me

i am coming

dear destiny

you have led me

in my blindness

along the path

i had to travel

for it was mine

with the colors of travail

the colors of joy

the things i have done

and the things

i failed to deploy

they were all mine

i often reflect on that oft’ used word

“purpose”

perhaps we make much ado about nothing

perhaps not

is it the seeking

is this our lot

the plight of mankind

to seek boundaries

that either we rebuke them

refute them or allow them to become

our defining moment

the collection of this life’s work

and to what end do we serve thee

this day

as your unknown yoke

chokes the best of our lives

from the pits of our bowels

to come forth

i assuredly am lost

tossed about the realms of reason

and trust me

the seasons are endless

it seems

i bother not to count anymore

for the numbers never change

they are the same

1 - 2 – 3 etcetera

and Ma nor Pa

nor Grand Pa

nor anyone

never did explain

this quasi insane

inane

plain

of pains

and exhilarations

we mostly live distracted

from a variety of ultimates

such as Love

Light

Truth

yet we go about our indoctrinal ways

infecting our youth

to live as we have

undiscovered

never to uncover

who we may become

beyond

this day

(c) 26 November 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.