Choose Past or Future (Poem)

The words of a poem, the dream that created the poem, they belong to us - but not the souls of poems; they belong to all life.

Choose Past or Future

When I close my eyes to search
beyond the horizon
for the graveyard of poems,
dreamt, but unwanted,
I am soon lost in the distances
I've travelled, returning empty-handed

Wise old poems fade and die
when they are not wrapped in a dream
when no heart anchors them,
but some are blessed by a radiance
and give birth to new baby poems
able to grow before fading

I opened my eyes this morning
perched on the edge of a razor,
facing the poems and dreams
I'd so long ached for, been a part of;
but now drawn, tenderly,
to the new infant word songs
born belonging to my heart.

Yes, oh yes, my heart is drawn to the tender
to the growing,
but my mind, it chooses the wise,
though their words often be wrapped in barbs
which will tear at my heart and reason;
decide my friend, decide,
for your time draws to an end.

^{11th Dec 2017)
Αλξανδρος Ζήνον Ευσταθίου
(Alexander Zenon Eustace)}