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Change of life
by Heide McAlister-BatesI am a tombstone
sans epitaph.
Blank, cold granite
with no purpose -
at the moment, anyway.
Meaningless?
Purposeless?
But what of future potential?
I just need the words etched in.
Is that too frightening,
carving the words in stone?
Surely it would be easier
to let them drift
in the ether.
No committment.
No promises.
Only maybes.
One days.
Perhaps.
Ambiguities without
form.
Wisps of smoke that
disappear in
the breeze.
But...
What about truth?
What about trust?
The security of solidity?
Has the time come
to pick up the chisel
and carve a new beginning?
The blade may slip.
I may bleed.
But I will have begun
to live
honestly.
06/05/2004 Posted on 06/05/2004
Copyright © 2024 Heide McAlister-Bates
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 06/06/04 at 01:10 PM Well,The purpose of the nature is well served in our births, procreation and deaths.And nature is wise enough to take care of the same. But how about our purpose? Purpose of this thinking machine? Survival is nature inflicted basic urge. In refined survival alone we can find our goal and this solely depends on the level of being. Writing for you derives meaning. Quest for WHAT IS is probably your goal.'But I will have begun
to live
honestly.' Yes, this is a step towards this refined survival.
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