A Season Beyond

We live in an era contrived,
its history untried.  Wind
rattles the shutters. Everyone
is looking for something.

Virtue and vice
have morphed and merged.
Politically correct is a catch phrase
clichéd until its muscle is gone.

We are all too thin
in the mind, too hefty
in hindsight.
Our passions are spent.

We sit in dusty rocking chairs,
melting into the fading brocade,
minds and bodies walled in
until even our friends are intruders.

There, on the frozen horizon,
a glint of sun.  It is not too late
and never too soon
to switch directions.

6 thoughts on “A Season Beyond

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