Time and reflections
shine light onto whatever delusion
I tried to live.

Witnessing the truth
in each passing glance
inside puddles
I dare not look away from.

Water not only grants life
by nurturing our most basic physical need,
but fulfills us spiritually
as natures only gateway to the truth,
the image looking back
is the unpolluted reality.

I walk alone,
no stars light to keep the sky bright.
If I saw a star I don't think,
I'd make a wish tonight.
Wishes too often whittle to nothing
like the dead trees I see around me,
stripped by time.

Signs I planted many walks ago
reading "things get better" ,
soon will be illegible
corroding under dying candles.
They point to a light on the horizon
I can't make out,
but no matter
I don't read signs I've passed countless times.

Trampled grass in this rut
will never straighten.
I'm not what I think I am
Only the truth in what surrounds me
can tell the story of my life.
There is no fork,
when you want to wander
down pity's broken road
passing tombstones
marking yester-years
deceased dreams.

Until a pacifying whisper
can penetrate the airwaves
that broadcast nothing
but my hearts self harm,
and promises
everything will be okay.