Our destiny falls upon all of us,
Like a winter cloak in summer.
Our life’s events identify us,
With our signature etched in color.
This is how it would have to be,
If it were ever going to be at all.
I speak from the well of acceptance,
My throaty whisper in reluctance.
Intimacies are there to behold,
Dark secrets that will never be told.
Forget not my angel, my companion solitude,
I remember its mercy, an endearing solicitude.
Destiny’s signature lived once; never jotted down,
To disappear with quiet wind, never again found.
You give a good case for writing about our lives like you and I have in this poem. Do we want our legacy, our destiny, to be known to the future? Then we must write it down. Both the good and the bad. For future generations, perhaps I just our family, to know better who and what we are and will be to those looking back at us… At our destiny.
Often I tried to look up someone from the past that I know, and find nothing of them on the Internet except through where paid sites have picked up information from various databases for sale.
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
Love ya!
Jane
Often I tried to look up someone from the past that I know, and find nothing of them on the Internet except through where paid sites have picked up information from various databases for sale.
Ron