Fay Slimm.

Musing

 

 

Musing.

 

Half-awake and stranded between the old
day and new,

coming tomorrows may look leviathan,

loom like clouds

of sharp-sharded, unreliable giants where
trust becomes sun-leathered

with nowhere to hide,

muscle-bound and most of the time

muddy-eyed.

Yet after a sip of memory\'s comfort I can
shake weighty foreboding and

see where truth\'s rise

has been leading events,

toss off stifling clothes and walk more 
upright into the future,

shoulders high.

Facing fate with anticipation I find myself

able to smile at being alive 

and for having been gifted with love,

life\'s battles then lose a bit of their scary
sting as I dip grateful toes

into the moment.

Past moves have everything good going
for them I muse,

while I notice

the sky above is becoming blue.