My won mortality
slaps the face of time;
I’m left here
looking at this face of mine–

Reflecting upon the things I should be doing.
Unencumbered by
those things yet
unproven.

And I’ll face tomorrow with
an unrestrained hope,

taking no offence
at this last
loss
of control.

For when mortality
faces me,
I’m lost within
whatever dreams I’ve had–
there is no point
or purpose
in getting mad.

So towards
another sunset
the day will take me…

Another chance to right
the things that, mistakenly,
I had once thought and believed
were the only true path for me.
But now I realize
that all such paths are open
to the free.

When a crescent moon
illumninates the mountain tops
and I am faced with choices
which have been dropped
upon the lap of mine,

to be regarded in their time,

things that shall route me
through the future,

and create my history.

So there is no reason
nor point
to take offense at this.
I don’t have the option
or the chance
to rectify all that’s amiss.

But the chance I do have
is to make the day my own.

The choice I’ll make
Is to take
this history
back home.