I’ve lost my vision.
Not my actual vision, but rather my view of the future, the one that guides me forward. I can’t see it anymore.
All the light is behind me, shining on where I’ve been. I can see it much more clearly. And I spend my day looking over my shoulder, thinking of what’s past.
Ahead is all in darkness.
Note: I don’t consider myself a poet, but occasionally I write something that I rather like. So, to start things off, I thought I’d share one I wrote recently. It doesn’t have a title.
You close your eyes
And bury your face
You shut the windows to the soul
To keep too much from getting in, and too much getting out
You place your face in the soft,
the human,
the humus
You cover it to hide it,
to let it open
To find the moment when it all feels real, two opposites
so close, mixed and free
That the burst is a bloom that arises from the burial.
The Seeker 