Falling Short Of Directions....

the road to patience is long and winding
say it over and over again
sometimes it leads us nowhere
there are dead ends
of our hoping
(and what shall
you do? you weep
alone and keep on talking
to yourself?)

you get feed up with lots of
my comforting
words, the poems, the chat,
and the
directions on what to do next
where to go,

they do not comfort you at all
all these long distance affections

but there is something that must comfort you
more, and make you perhaps
understand what this world is all about

everyone is lost
all hands are groping in the dark feeling only walls and walls
there is no light yet
the sound of rushing water deafens us
there are rocks higher than life
existing more than our
lifetime
always there
dead and cold and dark

there are traces in the sands
of some footsteps erased by the wind
not fossils
that still tell us what really happened

there is this comforting joy
we all are
and that makes us all

lost tribes, silenced by death
hoping not to be ever thrown again
like seeds that begin anew
on the first sprout
of another misery
handed from
bud to bud....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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