EYES OF FIRE
Sometimes. The saga leans forward. The
fires burn. My eyes are like blemishes,
scorching a dry field - it's not always
anguish or doubt. At times it's just fury.
-
Like a boy with a boyhood bat, certain days
make me just turn away from the ball field
where the other kids play. Not chosen for
their team, I'll just take my bat and go.
-
Here's what I've concluded, after umpteen years:
the marvel of this life is in the never-diminished
pleasure it can bring. I see a star, I see a tree. I see
the river, always on the move and running by me.
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