it’s the dying
this cold muddy slog
for the edge of the map
here where
roads long since
outran their pavement
converged into
one awkward route
no more mileposts left
distance down
now to counting
by stumbles and steps
this terrain
unfamiliar portends
an ungentle conclusion
fellow travelers
appear just as lost
nonetheless join in train
clear of eye
unafraid stoic ready
to rest from the journey
some not all
anticipate heaven
in reward of devotion
others wonder
or worry of wasting
all the miles left behind
still others
accept that life
simply cannot outlast death
all the same
their disparities
fall to their union here
end of days
waiting right where
we knew they would be
Reblogged this on AnishWebmaster.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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Thanks for refocusing this mid-lifer upon the road ahead!
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my pleasure, indeed
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Graceful . . . Truthful . . . Forceful . . .
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my first ever trifecta
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excellent
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thank you kindly
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The bottom line of life expressed with your own unique take on it. It is the whole story of men/women in one brief poem. I really have no idea how you do it – wish I did though!
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me too – I’d peddle bottles of it
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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most welcome!
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A haunting refrain!
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appreciate that, Carol
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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Well done Paul! Nicely written. Thanks for sharing.
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much appreciated, andy
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My pleasure
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A great reflective poem!
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thanks kindly
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I have always wondered where the road goes when the pavement runs out……since I live in a largely rural desert, we have a lot of roads that lack pavement. Even though I know figuratively what that stanza referred to, it took me back to childhood when I imagined that at the end of the road was a large castle.
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I love that thought
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Oh how many ways we approach that finality. Perhaps the nearing of the road informs my own embracing of a faith that carries me beyond what others see as the end of the road.
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well said, joseph
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Thank you!
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absolutely
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WOWZA. I especially love “fellow travelers appear just as lost”.
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sometimes it feels just like a
blind march into oblivion
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Well, I don’t believe it is, though it can feel that way some days.
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Reblogged this on themonkseal.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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