Every life has a beginning and an end... every journey has a start and a finish... every day has a message to be received and a message to be sent... every time you hope for the best sometimes you get exactly what you wanted and sometimes the reality that unfolds in no way matches your original wish. As I stand at the junction at the end of one road and at the beginning of another I find myself looking back over the path that I have forged with my own words and actions I see so many of the missteps that I have made - as if I could see my own footprints as clearly as if they were made in snow or in mud - and I wish that I were able to go back and change certain things, because I realize now that for so long I have, in a way, been trying to hold back the water of a flood by constantly repairing breaches in the dams that I have constructed to not allow the natural flow of the poetry of life that I believe in to change and refresh that which sometimes needs to be renewed - because for so long I have been held back by emotional barriers that at times I found it hard to contend with and understand. Everything is finite... night must become day, just as day must become night... rain falls, seas rise, rivers flow - and no matter what is said and what is done nature will win out, and for every door that opens one must close... everything, everyone, can only be expected to go so far for so long before they reach the end of a road and they have to start upon another.
finish
My Poem ‘Science’
As one cover closes,
another cover opens;
as one world freezes,
another continues to never know
the feeling of what it is like to be frozen;
as one story ends,
another adventure begins;
as a stranger becomes a friend,
another friendly acquaintance
is off to see something new
that they will declare when they see you next
that they had never seen such a thing before, or since;
as one road changes,
another connects with the one before
but simply with a change of name;
as one fire rages,
another dies until it is no more
than the after-glow of an extinguished flame.
Starts, and finishes;
beginnings, and ends;
birth, and death;
life’s phases of change and transformation;
thoughts, and wishes;
fresh air, breathing, cleansing;
right, or left;
chaos, order, belief, science;
everything in balance,
and happening for a reason,
like the variable in a perfect equation.
When things recur in nature;
when things are born, twinned with another
instead of singularly and alone;
when the present is also the past and the future,
that is when we all should take notice
with all our senses and instincts –
because it is then that we realize
that it is always better to be a designer
of your own life and style,
instead of simply being the same as someone else
and acting like a clone.
The seasons of Earth,
the names that we have given
the phases of our planet,
are never the same from one year to the next:
some winters are mild,
some winters are unbelievably harsh,
some summers are as golden as those
we always remember having when we were a child,
some summers are like being bitten hard
by a tyrannosaurus rex.
The sun continues to burn, and shine;
the water level of our rivers and lakes rise
and they fall, unexpectedly;
life is what it is,
and can never knowingly be kind, or unkind;
things happen again and again, invariably,
wonderfully, and sometimes surprisingly poetically.
Life is a continuous moment,
that our time existing in which
could be balanced on the tip of a needle;
our voices are but a whisper
in the cosmos of perfect silence,
and it is life’s precious finality
that empowers me the most,
and inspires me to the deepest of depths
and to the greatest of heights –
because once our lives are lived to their entirety,
we expire and then begin again anew,
and with another life to live and slowly reveal –
and that is the great journey,
and that is the great discovery of life,
of the universe, and the answer that follows
the equality sign posed eternally
from time in memorial by a meaning of life,
that is both a religion to believe in,
as well as the refined tried and tested
practice of a science.
Mark The Poet 