Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Marches - a poem by yours truely


by Aime Watts

Written May 28, 2004

1st Revision June 8, 2004

Revised June 21, 2005

We’ve walked though life but who are you?

“No man’s an island” but that’s a lie.

All of us, islands – isles of seclusion

Wandering through life, filling a void.

Associates only, forever strangers.

Companions wandering, crossing paths

for so many years; yet striding alone.

Finding comrades and friends,

Remaining alone in our lives;

Who knows me as I do?

Who understands us as we do?

Our children draw close, but wander as years go by…

Responsible for none in the eyes of Eternity.

Elusive, never attainable, never knowable, ever alone.

Our comfort in others to cloak our seclusion.

Desperate for companions to tread life’s path

Only to find all paths unique.

We walk our path only, and only alone

All others illusions, distractions, deceptions.

Who walks in ones shoes?

Who looks through ones eyes?

Who speaks through ones lips?

Do we hear the same?

Do we perceive the same?

A glimpse and a moment’s notice,

Is all we see of each other, all else is mist.

Some paths so close they seem the same;

Some cross with nary a nod,

All start separate, some cross, all digress.

Where next do we tread on eternity’s road?

What paths there to find?

Whose hand there to hold?

Will paths wander still?

Is life but a stage, a place to commence?

Where off to next; will we merge ere we go?

Where off to next?

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