Frame of Time
To look within a frame of what may be
is to look at the twilight and marvel
for what lies beyond an infinity.
Can you claim to fathom, anything more
then hope and a dream of a world remote?
Have you seen with waking eyes morrow’s lore?
Reveal to me then, with foresight so bold
since torn is thee: veil of uncertainty,
how will you frame a story yet untold?
Between the borders of a dark canvas
dare you judge a stroke or artist’s vision
Without first conceding, one’s own madness.
I have no desire to stab in the dark
and my piddling plans are of lesser worth
against the unknown’s many moving parts.
But curiosity is ever strong
when paths are vague and somber hearts sing low,
“What will become of my soul?” A sad song.
If I could capture with a single shot
all the good I pray lies before me yet
wonder bears a vision of a chance plot:
A dreamed portrait of a familiar face
with wisdom and memories traced with care
by a life of laughter and gifts of grace.
A figment she remains, like a riddle
Unsolved, till the tides of time clear grey skies.
still, there is warmth in a past rekindled
For the only vision, I have not feigned
is of one I knew, peering: vain to find,
who she may be on this side of the frame.