A recent poem from my tortured mind.

[darkshadow]

THE ENIGMA OF TIME.

The ruler of life, the master of days,

The relentless gaoler, the despot supreme.

Its essence unknown, its origins lost

In its own deep mystery, fathomless, mean.

Holding us fast in earthly sojourn,

Its minutes and hours, its days and its years

Dictate our experience; its limits command

Our obedience stark, through laughter and tears.

There is no escape from its regimen dire,

Nor any release while the blood of life flows

Like puppets we march to its terrible tune

Accepting its vagaries, whims and its blows.

Yet past times may still exist somewhere today

Though we cannot reach them nor find their embrace

Their bountiful blessings, their presence sublime

May ever endure in the fabric of space.

And likewise, the future , though we cannot know

May always be waiting-- as just in a dream

Where reality’s magic may soon be revealed

For nothing may be as it presently seems.

MARCH, 7TH, 2019.

[JEG325]

Awesome poem. I am sorry for what you are going through. I've been there, lived there and escaped. There us a light at the end of the the tunnel and daylight always shines after the darkest of nights. I beat this and I'm pushing 60. So I know ir can be done. I'm pulling for you, DS!

[darkshadow]

Thank you so much.