Poetry Bintananth's Random Musings

bintananth

behind a desk
Come along and sit with me,
For it is time for me to sing
About the things I have seen.
All the stories? They are true.

Stories of the world that is
And the things that should have been.
All there is is nothing more
Than the dust of memories.

All is gone and all is lost:
Never to be seen again.
The world is nothing but a dream
That I do wish to unsee.

It forever haunts my sleep
In the places I don't seek.
The nightmares; they always creep
Into hidden parts of me.

Hear me now and hear me once:
Forgive all past yesterdays.
Mistakes were made, that is true.
None of which can be undone.

Just let go and start again.
You will have a brand new day
To which only you can say
"Today is to be my day."

With resolve and nothing more
You can face whatever comes.
Come it will and come it shall
To test all of what you are.

There is no choice in this regard:
Tomorrow marches at you hard.
Relentlessly without fear
The sunrise, it looks for you.

Tomorrow is a question
To be dealt with when it comes
Once you've caught the setting sun
And seen the stars of the night.

Face it down and sieze the day.
Do your best: it's all you can.
For you only have one chance
To take a crack at today.

There is a sweet melody
Of things only you can see.
It's for you, and you alone
That no other understands.

Your world belongs to just you.
It is yours and yours alone.
None can see what you will see
Quite exactly as you do.

You can describe what you saw
In ways which come close to truth
But are always imprecise
For you can not be exact.

Forgive my tired ramble.
The stories? For those you ask?
They must wait. Another day
Perhaps, if we meet again.

So "good evening and sweet dreams."
With that, I shall take my leave.
 

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