As the last rays
Dip beneath their concrete horizons,
And the expanse of lined scratches
On the walls widens;
As the potential increases
And the noise levels drop,
The daylong golden reverie
Of a hazy afternoon pops;
There’s another day gone,
I’m never getting back.
Still days to go,
To lay to waste;
A full life’s worth,
Lazily retraced
Still I feel
An undying waste.
On looking back through the leaves of history
She found parallels abound;
There was so much she didn’t understand
And so, she knew, was the trail she’d leave behind
Odd little sprinkles of time
Stamped anachronistically upon the ageless
Showing its years in different ways:
In ways she didn’t understand
All this while, she’d watched the books,
She’d found it rather cute
The misunderstandings, primitive,
The misfits but misjudged
And yet there were parallels
Things that stayed the same
Searching, still frowned upon
Some things never changed
She suspected, they never would
And so, she made up her mind:
Why should she hold out on hope
For change that never came?
She would live her best life now
She and what she held dear,
It was her neat cropped prim roses,
It was her picket fence
And not to live in lasting fear
Of the end drawing near
For in her little bubble
She was right, fine, unconquered.
Outside it, not very much so
But she never did set out to please,
Fair then, if the world didn’t please her
Her acknowledgement was never needed
The new generation will carry the axe to the finish line.
Staring into the eyes of those she challenged
She gently put her axe down
The vibrations rattled off its body
And seemed to make a different sound;
Their protective armour was studded
And hid in it legacy
But the history was now in the books
And their shell wore only hypocrisy
She came from a different land
With different way of tread
They looked upon her, questioning,
So she opened her mouth and said,
Those are your gods you talk of, not mine
To me, they’re but influence
They taught me how to stand up
But have sat down since
They taught me how to sing
And you, how to talk;
Their spirit flows within my veins
But I choose my own cause
I’m not out to topple the stars
I merely build on the earth beneath
But bearing the torch lit in last flames
There’s mountains to go before the peak.
Peering up ahead
Building mountains before me
Must begin to climb.
Piling up work never helps. Here’s to getting through the day!
MattWilliamsonLive 