Clarity

Poem By Jane Sparkes

The image is faded
A mist of passing time settles over memories of yesterdays in your arms.
Was it just a dream?
A cruel trick of a wandering dreamers mind, an ideal to aspire to or clouded over silver linings which never were?
Who knows, do you or I?
Everyone sees a diferant happening.
Paths not parallel, hardly ever crossing, if so haphazardly. Awkwardly. Chaotically.
In my own reality that craves symmetry, the angles distort into harmonious curves full of colour and light and luscious glows.
Who knows where the light begins, where it will fall and if it can be guided?
Unlikely it seems. Though fate may, throw an angle here or there.
Who can steer this mystery and through it all should?
And could one dare to travel blind and miss the joy which can be searched for with open eyes?
Or would be soon blinded be by reflections from mirrored visions of the silver linings dwelling in my troubled mind?

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