Birth’s Endless Reflection

Moments Alone in darkness
Removed from day’s imitation
Invites inner quiet as reality’s comfort.
 
Closing one’s eyes
Reveals childhood playgrounds,
Where companions shared aloneness,
Telling of secrets,
Those” once” stories filling idle time
While cocooned in tree house intrigue.
 
Such memories…

Like under-rock-secrets
Found in shadowy woods,
Forever remaining as straying-off-trail-discoveries,
One’s finish line for life’s stormy relay,
A cross country run through time,
Finally becoming circuitous blurs in the sky.
 
For some…
 
Time’s aspect bears not a father’s face,
Nor the big and little hands of a mother,
Once gently nudging hours along

Instead…

Paternal time now relaxes
Into Daliesque imaginings for survival. 
All names and images eventually merging
As a lamina among leaves,
Cradled and carried by the wind,
Where the colors of remembrance flickers
Like one’s personal book of candles,
One’s timeless pages once read by light’s burning,
Becoming, at last, finally, peacefully,
Birth in perpetuity.

Such is the infinite life of existence.