Yearning is an easy look
backwards, a slow-moving canvas
colored to taste, shaded by habit.
Our war whoops but echoes
fading in canyons on trails of broken
brush long-overgrown, mocking
our wild-eyed blindness
since sharpened and tempered
by scars upon scars and time.
Now is the moment we begin
to be all we can—to revel
in its rich accomplishment.
I appreciate your ability to see yourself in the context of the past, the future, and with clearer vision, the present . . . Well done . . .
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Thanks, Peter– and without too much judgment, I hope, when focused on the present– two birds with one stone.
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