Observe the grain of the wood.
All the years it has withstood.
Waves that mark moments in time.
Corresponds with yours and mine.
Rolling on for best or worse.
This a blessing and a curse.
With my nature once aligned.
Thrust to places out of time.
Gently weathering a life.
Beautified from endless strife.
Flip the course and run against.
Being becomes far more tense.
Bending reeds in winds unscathed.
As rigid trees cracked and razed.
Feeling deep within my bones.
To this place I must attone.
Forgotten once in the noise,
Matters of expectant poise.
Fit the man – to an image.
Potential – meets the visage.
But who’s potential, who’s dreams?
They are not mine, so it seems.
Reach and strive for approval.
Involved some self removal.
But those prior deviations,
Formed gorgeous bands and striations.
Running fingers on the grain.
Feeling the ways to reclaim.
Reclaiming that tender start.
Listening close to the heart.
Very soft, in the distance.
Hopeful of this existence.
Lost but never went away.
Call it back, and it might stay.
One and many cast their rue.
To myself, I shall be true.
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