Consecrated Steps


Somewhere in the thick of days closing
and the space occupied present or absent,
the body closes to new direction.

Through consuming possession
of one facet of living over another,|
Time dances on without us.
Lost in rhythm,
we turn down our head to focus,
we turn down our smile or
natural flat affect at time.
Begrudged or betrayed the
sound of our feet upon the earth
fails to find sweet metronome with time.

Out of balance we wade
and warble forth striking
our feet deeper into the
mud and clay. 

We plod on this path
enchanted by one facet of
living or another with
an unguaranteed hope
that our march forward
will pay recompense to
the lost time, the failures.
The foibles. 

All the while in calculated
or clumsy step, our feet
chisel storied memories
into earths hallowed surface. 

 

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