Scattered

 

 

Autumn will soon be here,
crisp and cool like a breeze over the ocean.
Summer has taken pieces of me and scattered them,
like broken shells over the shoreline.
So much of my soul stretched for miles.

But this is life, isn't it?
The awakening of new reasons to live,
and the slumber of old reasons to die.
How can one person possibly know how
to continue living in the midst dying?

Questions always with few answers.
Surely the poet in me has some ideal
of what the soul needs to stay alive.
Yet I don't know and probably never will.
Some questions are safer left unattended to.

If I look over the pieces of me, scattered
maybe I can find my own answers to why
my soul has to dance over waves to feel alive,
why my eyes see colors in the sky not found on palettes
and why I still believe in love that never dies.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This gray and rainy day reflects in my words.