Monday, June 22, 2009

I would like to chase the sun (1999-2001)

I would like to chase the sun.
But each step on the icy ground
gets shorter and slower.
Till there’s a still longing.

There’s the company of trees.
Shorn of leaves, with green mossy sides,
age-old wisdom, helpless fate.
Call it, maybe, His ways.

It is tougher still, not to let winter in.
Within where there’s no cover
but faith which reason shuns.
Nor assures another summer.

Is that all? To survive?
Darwin says it’s easy: one to the other,
a smile, a laugh and in bed together.
Possibly not when life is a routine.

He had a choice – to let them live or love.
There’s no reason actually, in either;
a whim, like the seasons that please or not.
He did not know about the faith.

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