The low hum of the overhead lights calm My frazzled nerves.
Surrounded by the cool, musty air of This old building
My goal this night is to create an Image of my future
But this image evades my grasp.
Like a dreamer waking to an Unwelcome World while holding onto the reminants
Of that evasive dream
I rest my aching head upon the cold Desk top, wondering at the events
That have formed my existance until now.
Is this all my reality;
What I have created
Or is there another
That controls and conforms our lives,
That guides the beat of our heart,
The rush of our emotions?
Or are we inevitably responsible
For each nuance of every aspect of our Lives?

03/03/2002

Posted on 03/03/2002
Copyright © 2024 Dawn M Williams