Back To The Stars,

No more searching inside the well of excuses,
The well will always be full,
The bucket will always be empty.
Plenty,
There always is, 
Plenty of time to waste,
Until there isn't.
Only hindsight,
Forever hindsight,
Forever waste.
No risks,
No trying,
Only excuses,
Always tomorrow.
Comfortable tomorrow, 
Cozy as a sock,
Warmed and woolen wool,
Perched comfy,
Fat cat comfy,
Old lady winter comfy,
Dying.
Perched on this comfortable not so well and worried wall.
Time stalks the blind, 
Always remembering,
Ticking on.
Listen close,
Hear the tick and tock, 
Ticking and tocking,
Time,
Mine,
Yours,
Ours,
Chiming the excuses away,
Today.
Excuses that line the hindsight wall,
In regretful jars,
Made forever by forever facing mirrors,
Reflected Into the eternal void of,
I, wish and had.
Through hands and open fingers the heart and life slip back,
Back to the stars,
The repeating seed,
The grain,
The ended dust,
Where the only three that matter exist;
Before, 
Once,
Never,
Into the perpetual always yesterday,
Now all rear views,
And lumps in the throat.


Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler





6 thoughts on “Back To The Stars,

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