Gossamer

© 9/9/2001 Dennis L Pickering Gossamers are delicate things They can be nearly transparent. Just for you to be beholding On this lifelong journey of yours The word can but describe your life Whether it is cut with a knife. Or whether you are translucent To others in your strongest suit It can be just diaphanous To friends of ours who see through us And see us when we’re most fragile But accepting what is agile? When we use our agility, It seems to be the single key That opens up all things for us Within our lives that’s called the bus. Which everyone must ride upon Until about the crack of dawn Which signals start of a new day And gets you gaily on your way. Ethereal thoughts may occupy That mind of yours up in the sky That you let drift within your head Mostly before you leave your bed. When you have time to think your thought Of different dreams you have brought In your thoughts in your lifelong quest That you’re traversing without rest. It seems to you that they are short Nighttimes of sleep upon the court But they are only occupied By the awareness that you ride Into your sleeping wanderlust Which you only feel that you must Ride on until another dusk To keep you all clear of the rust. Which is deterioration Of something in any nation That we might at times occupy Upon this bitter piece of pie Written November 15th, 2001 © on Nov 14 2001 04:45 PM PST, Dennis Pickering   0 • 10