Tomorrows Of Yesterday
by Odin Roark

Once was a place
thought to be where time finally started,
where love and tenderness began to reign,
where oneness seemed more than a New Age trend.

Such was the time when emotions met,
promises pledged,
lust struggled to become love,
where passion’s mistakes
became failure’s red cape for certain death.

Now, as memories fade with each gust of wind
through the ruins of a mind and heart,
the tomorrows of yesterday eagerly beckon
one embrace the dawns and sunsets of the now.

To finally respect such a rock once seeming indomitable,
is to sift through the sand and dust of its lesson with joy,
knowing the experience of tears becoming sand,
was and is… perfect.

For now love seems to be a molten flow,
an endless calm of perfection forming,
void of becoming hard, fractured, or a scree valley
of attachments to seize.

Such an awakening,
this past of tears becoming
gentle sands drifting.