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Only from remembering, one can glean of their stock,
sifting through layer upon layer, often finding that which only mocks…
But from these unsteady ledges contained within the mind,
is there any hope of discovering ourselves, of a soul to find…
And ev'though the vagaries of the past can blur what we seek to recall,
to deliver us beyond the garden, from beneath Adam's first fall…
Comes the glint and glitter of paradise's tiny shiny stones,
providing for each a section, a section on Divinity's many thrones…
So, go my fellow wanderer, go and mine your rocks,
For time is of no hindrance, is only contained in clocks…
But if you ask again the direction, the way of me, one lowly sot,
it's likely I won't remember, that I already have forgot!
poem by Darrell Rohling
email him about this piece at djrohling@aol.com |
