Old faces, filled with time
Flash back what’s to come like heat lightening
taking the long road home
Lost smiles, fretful grimaces, contorted frowns
All sides of broken triangles
Lonely whispers awaiting blind supplication
Like wayward priests in intercession
Clouds, filled with tomorrow, rain hard
on barren fields, left alone in fallow adoration
Weak, knees trembling, arms outstretched
Imagined saviors climb down from still green crosses
Crucification waits at least one more day
Without warning, or reason
another day is born from today’s seeds, and
more time fills our aging faces
Poetic Alchemist 