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Wander off the path,
Explore the regions beyond, Find yourself within.
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 Outside my front door is a flower in bloom,
beyond bloom really, the other side of middle age, past prime, slightly withered, soon to be replaced by youth, a new bloom, a bright and vibrant bloom. Excuse me for my absence,
my retreat to peace. I need a break, not from you, From the busy, the rat race. Excuse me, it’s time for me, my retreat to my soul. I need a break, not from life, From all of life, except me. Excuse me, I need to focus, my retreat to clarity. I need a time out, a breather, From the clutter, the decisions. Excuse me, I’m not leaving, my journey home begins. Will there ever be a void
Where loss, there was once life? Will there ever be happiness Where smiles where once contagious? Will there ever be lies Where the truth was once less painful? Will there ever be peace Where there were once no struggles? Will there ever be a clear path Where there once was no fog? Will you ever know Where you are now? When you look in the mirror,
What do you see? Do you see your spirit? Can you say, “I’m happy with me.” Look into your eyes, Lock in the gaze, Stare down your demons. Smile. You can do it. Smile. Don’t let the pain win. Smile. There you go. You’re beautiful when you smile. The tear running down your cheek Is not of sadness, but of happiness. Your smile fractured your depression, Opened the gates to freedom You’ve kept closed in fear. The gate is open. You’re free to smile, To be contagious, To spread your happiness To a world that has been waiting. Start and end your days with a smile. Be happy with you. I’m just a man
Living a simple life With basic needs And minimal desires. I’m just a man Watching the sun rise in the east And setting on the western horizon - The moon lighting the evening sky. I’m just a man Walking on a trail of shells To a blue-green shoreline Just so I can smile. I’m just a man Writing notes on a tablet, Constructing sentences and paragraphs For a story of innocence and heartache. I’m a man in a mirror Staring at my likeness, Seeing on a stranger Holding a pen and pad of paper. Clarity in silence,
Precious moments of reflection, Opportunities, Vulnerabilities, Nevertheless, No Perpetuity. Freshness, Crispness, Uncertainty, A wicked series, A conundrum, A maze, Lost in silence. |
Robert Stanhope
Writer and photographer. Archives
December 2022
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