unfleshed dreams

OK, so this is kind of depressing… wish I’d noticed it for one of my Lenten posts! It’s excellent poetry, doing a good job of expressing something.

So I’ll do a more upbeat one right away, to make up for it. They have to be separate posts, for the tagging.

No backtrack, old Hansel

Age is a wilderness where your skills
and your dry wit seem not enough
to find a path on pathless hills.
Behind, you leave such fragile stuff–
such a sparse trail of shining stones
shown by time’s black birds to be bread
for scavengers. And no blank bones
mark where your unfleshed dreams lie dead.
Nothingness is the harsh rebuff
and age the wilderness where your will
and withered wit seem not enough
to find paths on this pathless hill.
 
 
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