Reflections of Future Events

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It seems the meditation and candle lighting portion of the service is highly conducive to coming up with prayerful thoughts. For a second week in a row, words appeared in my head without effort or conscious intention.

I light this light
In praise and thanksgiving.
I light this light
For friendships saved.
I light this light
For guidance and shelter.
I light this light
For loved ones in pain.
I light this light
For the strength of memory.
I light this light
To reflect future hope.

Maybe I should eventually gather them together into a compilation of personal prayers.

It is an odd feeling, this mixture of the peace of serenity and the pain of loneliness. I expect and look forward to the time when the loneliness recedes. And yet there is something inside me that warns me of the vital nature of loneliness, that it would be a mistake to be entirely free of it. Some questions have no answers save that the question is asked in the first place. I suspect this is one such.

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Guess what? As a writer, I write the occasional obligatory poem. Here’s the rough draft of one, though it still needs a title. (remember, the key word is “rough draft”) For those who don’t like free verse…maybe I’ll do a structured one in the future. For those who don’t like poetry at all, sorry. The next post won’t be poetry.

Untitled

I went to the sea to catch a ship filled with laughing people.
They laughed, and danced, and sang, and beckoned me onward.
I ran across the beach, the sand slowing my efforts.
And when I reached the water, the ship had sailed,
Echoes of laughing people beckoning me on.

In haste, I built a coracle made of hopes and dreams,
And set to sea to join the beckoning crowd.
I paddled hard, in my boat of dreams,
And the ship grew ever distant
And the coracle of hopes began to leak.

I looked behind to see my path.
In the distance, I saw another ship
Loading on board laughing, dancing children.
The ship, it set sail, and followed my wake.
Its passengers hollering and beckoning.

And while I paddled my way to stasis chasing the first,
Yet the second fell behind.
And from both horizons, echoes of merriment called me on.
Then, as my boat spun confusing each direction,
The echoes dwindled and faded beyond hearing.

And I, in my coracle of leaky dreams, sit
Awash with the waves of a growing storm.
I struggle to keep my hopes from sinking,
Yet as I look for a new direction,
I find myself lost between generations.