interesting how aging changes one's perception and redefines one's
definition of sanctuary.
hocus-pocus indeed!
another fine write, jon.
peace & blessings,
carolyn

Your golden pen always inspires me. Missed your fine poetry, Jon. Been away for so long as if lost in my new environment. Thanks for this beautiful piece.

For me, the last verse is indicative of life in general. Should God produce, He does so in a way we never expected or consciously wanted. Great poem, Jon. Hugs,
Sheila

You brought back a lot of memories to me John. A little, well penned glimpse of the man and the times that made him.

I LOVE YOUR INTRODUCTION...FOR ME, IT SUMS UP THIS ENTIRE WORK. THE EXPERIENCES THAT WE ENCOUNTER ON THE WAY TO WHO WE ARE TODAY IS ALWAYS SO VARIED BUT THE END RESULTS IS ALWAYS THE SAME...A POET IS BORN! ENJOYED AND THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS & FAITH,
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS

Very good work, Jon. And thank you for commenting on my stuff.

Our long ago memories where the simplicity of our days kept us wrapped in the knowledge that our small piece of life's pie was our safe sanctuary...but as time and experiences re-molded dreams and changed the paths we followed our sanctuaries became less and smaller----but hocus-pocus, never!
peace and love, Carole~

You break us out the accumulation of these days...we are parted beginnings and we only just begun to see everything that we are..

Like a fine wine, harsh weather and time has cultured you well.

Ron

How wonderfully you speak of vanishing time ~ a photograph moving along at high speed.
I think the poem and author have both turned out to be marvelous, simply ripping.
Blessings,
Christine

Hi Jon, very meaningful expressions about life, who we want to be and what we have become... with all of life's beauty and unfairness, smiles and pains... beautiful, Jon. thank you for sharing.

Love,
Sheri

Such a full circle feel to this, indeed we are molded along the way from the moment we are born, this is a moving write Jon~
Love and Blessings,
Christine

I think as we grow more mature, the things that soothed us in our younger days fade into only memories. I remember how sweet the smell of Honeysuckles as I rode my horse through a "Holler" on a road in our farm. Wonderful memories abound from those days.
Now unfortunately, reality has overwhelmed many of the easy fixes for anxiety and fear.
But, ah yes, I remember......

Walt

It appears, Jon, that we grew up in pretty much the same culture.
You express it simply and beautifully. I refuse to acknowledge a
world in which the goals of a foolish man are turned into hocus
pocus. You, my friend, grew up to embrace love, compassion, and an
artful intellect. -gene.

earth pads got me right away to. - Morgan

What I love most about this piece, Jon, is how decades can be condensed to but a few stanzas yet reel with the energy of dreams and drip with the rain of disappointment. Your poem perfectly, yet subtly conveys how quickly time passes by. One day, we awaken and find ourselves taking stock of all those moments, hours, days, years and eras - taking a deep breath tinged upon its edges by both melancholoy and bittersweet gratitude. We hope that what ultimately rises to the surface is that we lived life authentically and with purity of intent - that we are in any given moment precisely and beautifully who we need to be, were meant to be. And, from where I sit, you are exactly you as no one else could be or could have been - and its divine.

POWERFUL POEM!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

Earth pads- How original, as is your walk down memory lane. Remember day old bread at a reduced price. Now it's full of chemicals to keep it fresh longer. Life no doubt has many twists and turns and one can get side tracked easily. Goals have to be set as a challenge and many may never achieve all of them but hell we have to try.

George

seems sad..

Jon, I think many, of a "certain age," can relate...wise and honest writing.

There's nothing at all foolish in this, Jon, this is truth as it should be told - directly, wisely, honestly...and to hell with hocus-pocus, you're a man and poet way above that.

John

ps: luv 'earth pads'
jf

your words reach me deeply John
and send out an invitation
to my listening soul...reaching
for one more dance...and another...

Magic Turned Inside Out
Vickie

my long ago bedevils me now
sanctuaries vanished too rapidly
goals of a foolish man
never came into focus
all turned into hocus-pocus

Ah yes. Many will relate to your musings, Jon. The philosophy of a man who has the wisdom of sharing his wisdom. Thank you, my friend. Love and peace,

Regis