Memories,
Floating, drifting,
Pouring through meditation,
Clamouring for acknowledgment,
Savouring this opportunity
To impose themselves on mindful thoughts.
Remembering the lake;
A vast expanse
Of clear, blue water
Reflecting a cloudless sky
Now sepia-toned
With ages past.
Remembering the trees;
Clinging to life
In barren, rocky land
Where legends grew
And mysteries spawned
To prey upon unwary minds.
Remembering walking
Over moor and hill
Past crofts and villages
Shrouded in mists
That hid their beauty
Behind its translucency.
This time
When we were young
And unaffected
By life’s pains and troubles;
When all roads
Rose to meet us.
This land,
Mysterious, yet familiar,
That taught us patience,
Peace, and solitude’s pleasures;
And showed us how
To live.
What difference is there
‘Tween youth and age?
Only time. Yes, time;
And memories of life
That now impose themselves
On mindful meditation.
Memories
That come flooding back
Despite our best endeavours
In trying to clear
Our cluttered minds
Of pain.
Memories
That seem so useless
When trying to forget;
And yet so precious
In guiding lives that have lost their way;
If only we would listen.
Caed mile failte;
The ancient blessings cry.
One hundred thousand welcomes
To all the weary travellers
Who search so far
Along the road within.
Greenacre 9 