Our journeys are filled with chances
Doorways to not now
Some taken, some ignored, some slammed
Some never noticed
Until the clarity of time reveals the miss
Is it fair, at this point, any point
To wonder about the branches
Ponder the paths pursued and passed
What slipped away on a random day
Swirling into the never will be
What music did we miss
Golden in the beckoning, notes resonant, words pure
Filling in the missing pieces
Of the harmonies
Our spirits yearned to sing
What lover’s name will we never call
The one with all the right answers
To all the murky questions
That we never quite managed
To ask even of ourselves
What vocation inclination eluded our grasp
Instead of the clank and grind we settled for
Grudgingly, perhaps desperately
What would we have done
If we could do anything
What lands would we have discovered
After others but before most
A place where the sun shines like memory
And the food tastes of already tasted
And we know our souls have been here before
Will we ever find solace, wondering about the uncreaked doors
Justifying the measures and the choices and the results
Is it possible to take our dream stick
And stir up the Sea of Then-and-Now
Until the waves change from gray to blue
Or do we toss aside the seeds that never grew
And enjoy the flowers that did bloom, however imperfect
Discolored, but ours, and therefore beautiful
Tending our garden, tending ourselves
And squeezing the juice out of tender fruit
Do we take the chances
To learn new dances
Or do we dance as we have always done
To the music only we can hear
Until our feet find their way once again
Note: Photo taken in one of the many gardens of the Palacio de Generalife, the “summer palace” at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain.
Categories: Reflections
Bonnywood Manor 
“Or do we dance as we have always done
To the music only we can hear
Until our feet find their way once again”
There is something lovely and vulnerable and hopeful all at the same time in those lines.
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Thank you. I was hoping to stumble my way towards exactly that…
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How oddly apt. Especially today when someone I knew has passed from this mortal coil by their own hand.
“Or do we toss aside the seeds that never grew
And enjoy the flowers that did bloom, however imperfect
Discolored, but ours, and therefore beautiful
Tending our garden, tending ourselves
And squeezing the juice out of tender fruit”
He forgot how to tend his garden I guess, and tossed aside the seeds of possibility.
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Oh my. Suicide is a tricky, personal thing. I’ve been through periods of depression in my life, but that option has never crossed my mind. Then again, we all have different fruits, and we tasted them differently, so I have no place to judge…
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How oddly apt. Especially today when someone I knew has passed from this mortal coil by their own hand.
“Or do we toss aside the seeds that never grew
And enjoy the flowers that did bloom, however imperfect
Discolored, but ours, and therefore beautiful
Tending our garden, tending ourselves
And squeezing the juice out of tender fruit”
He forgot how to tend his garden I guess, and tossed aside the seeds of possibility.
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I can imagine this set to music.
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Oh, that’s a wonderful thing for you to say… 🙂
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It’s ALWAYS the here and now; the rest is in the past or the future. Verse lends an oddly endearing discipline to writing doesn’t it?
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Verse does, indeed, have a discipline, which is why most of my attempts never make it out of the draft folder… 😉
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So beautiful, Brian. 🙂
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Thank you, Lynette. This was my most inspired moment during out time in Spain…
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The Now is real, the what if’s not – enjoy this moment, it’s all you’ve got.
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Oh, I agree completely. Still, we have moments of reflection that we have to process…
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Indeed.
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Divine.
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Merci beaucoup.
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Dance on, Sir Brian, dance on.
(Your muse lives in Spain, yes? She’s a delight.)
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Seriously, Spain just DOES this to me. I love what it does for my inspiration…
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