Through the mist Clearly

At times I come undone
stitches holding fabric together
unravel, slacken
and I stumble
over the trailing pieces.

But it’s the mistakes I make
which make me human
As I curl into a ball from yet more pain
amid the other smoldering embers.

At times my soul reaches out too far
touches an emptiness of air
expecting something else to
meet me in the void.


The clock of life never stops
tick tock, tick tock
(Who invented clocks anyway!)

Other times
I can see through the mist clearly
that what is meant to be

…Is what exists.


© Daydreamertoo         *All rights reserved

Shared with Caryy on Tuesday #135
Poetry Picnic #17