Poems
All the days of yesterday
are gone
but the memories remain
Into the small pocket of the mind those days that have past fill empty spaces
And I do remember...
And I do remember.
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Look behind and what do you see?
All the things that used to be.
Look ahead and what do you find?
None of the things you left behind.
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When you have a code in da nose,
That's an area code everyone knows.
But if it's quick and doesn't take hold.
Consider yourself lucky, you've had a zip code.
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It's interesting, the patterns of life.
When parents begin they assist their young. And when the parents are old the young take care of them.
When the season change, so do the moods of the people.
When there is plenty there is always none for some.
And in the minds of everyone, everyone is wrong.
If we were to follow those and other patterns there should be no doubt that all is not lost but simply routine and that in the end we will never have enough nor will we always succeed.
It stands to reason that we are creatures of habit and that to deviate is to cause confusion and wont in our lives. It is best, therefore, to remain as is and ride out the tide of the changes that comes with living.
No need to seek counsel for it is within everyone if only summoned.
And when i's time for death, enter that portal knowing that life's patterns did not fail you nor you to it. But life was lived as ordained and it was kept as it should have been.
In these patterns of life we never hear the real voices but that which was filling in the vacancies of thought. We hear that only what we want to hear. The rest is noise.
And when we speak we make the same noise unless there was meaning and those who hear our voice determine that.
There's no need to change the patterns of life. They change themselves and we are only witnesses to those changes. To alter the pattern is to sacrifice the privilege of participation and thus we simply stand on the sidelines and watch.
Observe and wait. The patterns of life live.
