Gentle souls ride the soft undercurrents of restless time Rushing towards eternity.
They are not uprooted in the winds of chaos
But bend to straighten again like willows
Swaying in the rain.

Their devotion is the mesh
Underpinning both light and dark energy,
The constant that remains
After the storm has passed.

Their memory is a reflection in a rain pool
Mirroring earth to heaven and back again,
Lending pliant structure to fleeting form.

My heart is still hollowed out,
The leaves of memory yet to come
Have been torn from my hands
And flung into the turbulent ocean
Billowing to a distant shore.

What once was mingles with what might have been
And slips like raindrops
Through my open hands.

Published in Poems