Your first love
will not be your last.
Your first kiss
will not linger long.
Fade away with days,
old memories,
and in the evening,
the Sun’s last rays.
Crackle of a fire dying.
Wood piled high nearby.
Do you let it go?
Die down to coals
and be overtaken
by the night?
No.
Not this time.
Stoke it back up, high.
There is still
a few fingers left
in the bottle
and stories bereft
of a home.
So let the tales be told.
There are things that were,
but what will come
with the rising
of the morning sun,
that great horizon.
Blazing color palette
brighter than your mind remembers.
This is where
you’re gonna get to choose,
the final path,
the last aesthetic.
A way to get you to
that terminus of vision.
Your last point of view.
The one
that eschews this world
and sees God.
Hope you find something
that pleases you.
So many choices,
it’s tough to recognize.
But it won’t matter
whose face you’re wearing.
The truth is all in the eyes.
DJR – 2022
