Pondering - napowrimo

 

I’ve been pondering mortality.

Wondering really,

like the future is a field

that I wander through,

but it is foggy, so I can only view

a few steps from where I stand.

 

Now I see that age is creeping in,

like a shadow in the mist,

a vicious creature circling its prey.

But then I think, both night and day,

for hours at a time, as it circles my mind.

 

Is it really vicious, or just as lost as me?

 

Am I just a thought

that became reality.

A brief spark of dust

from a star many light years away.

 

I believe that I am just

experiencing a story, where I write the lines,

and I decide on some of the passages,

but other storylines entwine with mine

that I don’t write,

so, I share my bread  as they become a part

of this whole narrative thread.

 

Is it a fairytale or a tragedy?

 

This isn’t as important as knowing

that it is living, breathing. Playing.

Having belief in the story to write

the right lines at hopefully the right times.

 

Is the heart beating every moment it can?

Is the song in your head as strong

as the love on your lips?

And when you share your life,

does it build bridges

or does it all just slip into dust?

 

I believe in the power of us,

and the love inherent in our story books.

And each may be

just one of the many countless pages

in a leatherbound anthology.

But they all sing so perfectly,

and make every smile

grow like a field in May.

 

And one day my final words

will write themselves

into the stars and I’ll return

to the dust somewhere beyond mars,

exploring the cosmos, as a part of this

whole collective of us.

And every atom will be connected

to every page, like ink in a book,

and wherever I look I will see stars,

every heart that I ever touched

and that ever touched mine,

and I know that I will be fine

because those stars will always shine.