The Shifting Sands of Time
By gregpoet
I walk upon the shifting sands of time, and lose myself in wild and aimless thoughts of yesterday. Such rapture, short but sweet. Such joy, such bliss, I'm moved to weep. To think that such could be and yet is now no more but bitter memories to keep in store. O Fickle Fate!! You spare no heart in this, your quest to mock and laugh at all that's blessed ....or all that should be so. It was a time that was, but is no more. Until the time shall come again to make the present as before. But halt!! I scold my wandering thoughts. My tortured self can take no more of this that strives with strife to take my precious past, my bliss. And tarnish them with wishful hope which is but futile promise. In lieu I'll glory in the past, and try to bring alive again at last, what Time itself with joyless aim would make into an aching pain. A pain that fills my troubled heart. And for my part, my weary thoughts shall know no rest.... and yet they may. For I shall guide them back to this, my bliss, of yesterday. Written by Gregory Fitt Written November 13th, 2001 © on Nov 13 2001 07:17 AM PST 18 • 0 • 12
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"I walk upon the shifting sands of time,..."