On crimson eventide
A poem of leaving behind what isn’t for me
On a crimson eventide
The night glitters with a million white gold flickers
The last of the fire falling beneath reddened horizon
No whispers to be heard and not a grain to crunch
Until
The silence is broken
a wide-winged gull calling me home
Fervent flapping with a fury like a phoenix rising from the ashes
His message burgeoning me to follow
To leave this place and seek new refuge
Start again and reinvent or what’s more, invent
What it is that today and tomorrow is to be for me
To leave behind the corpses of
Tin men littering the highway I’ve travelled
Is harder and more taxing than anyone should endure
If I had a magic carpet, I would never touch the road again
I would fly high above and leave it in my rear-view and not glance a glimpse ever again
And the sun will come up tomorrow
Breathing life into the new day
As I begin again and fill my lungs with the air
Of sunflowers, dandelion and forget me knots
My tailwind would be a force of influence advancing me toward
Peace
Arm outstretched, I can just about touch it, so close to just about grasp
The warmth of it beckons
The smell of it entices like baking bread in the oven of a household that isn’t mine
Will the akashic records align with my musings and dreams of life’s next Act
Will the release of karmic debt consume me into universal grace and blessings
This time ……
