07/23/2024
It’s all a part of the
same old story
Nothing really changes
very much
Those fringes of snow gather
Upon a scarred and
weathered dome
Covering mountains
of memories
Hidden amongst dense
white clouds
Of smoke rising from a blackened
Spirit of ash
A blinding flash
Behind black piercing eyes
As talons of an eagles claw
Grasp tightly within shadows
Of inconsistencies
Mere figments at that
far corner
Of peripheral vision
Disappear silently once again
Leaving me breathless
Perched on a precipice
With dual personalities
Riding shotgun on this never ending
Road to nowhere
Maybe a journey,
But could be a sentence -
Understanding is knowing
When one ends
And the other begins
Ron Walker