Moments Movement

moments movement Aoril 23 2018- - milky way blow out

Through the strata, life and living,
Drawn by promises of more,
Down side streets slyly opening,
Tales of love and lore,
Many fractious paradigms,
New and old devout,
Moments straight and curling,
Folding inside out,
We move with no beginning,
No goal waiting at the end,
It’s all about the journey,
Now and here, not then.
Flow with the moments movement,
No pondering the whys,
Just simply follow shining
With the light that never dies.

***

© 2018 Robin McShane

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Ephemeral

T’was Sunday morning on the farm,
The cows had all been milked,
The pigs lay softly snorting,
The fences all rebuilt.

Chickens were a-clucking,
Dogs barking away,
Rain had started falling,
On this quiet, special day.

The breakfast table groaned
With a hearty meal to come,
Coffee sat a-brewing
As the farmer thought him done.

But dark clouds now came rolling in,
Threatening their stay,
The painter’s brush so wide and cruel
Would paint them all away.

The brush it swung so fast and true,
For the painter another role,
And the farmer and his merry bunch
Thought that they were in control.

How sad to think we live our lives
In the illusion that they’re real,
Until another comes along
And all the skins unpeel.

Our canvass fades before us,
What we thought was ours for keeps,
Then simply disappears,
Into the ether seeps.

© Copyright March 2014 Rob McShane
All rights reserved