Slowly, the Gray

If I ask the sun to hurry and shine upon the gray
that has now lasted for too long
time will go by faster,
Should I ask that of the day?

The dread of Monday comes
And we wish for it to pass
We look for Wednesday, ‘hump day’
Halfway through the week
Soon the Friday we yearn to greet.

When we do this, our weeks and months fly by so quickly
Soon our years pass and we regret it
We ask, ‘where did time go?’
In retrospect, that’s what we asked for.

I now enjoy the gray
Both in my hair line
And the day.
When the sun now arrives
and smiles upon the shadows
Made of clouds
I ask of ‘father time’
To be kind and 'Not' rush
The soaring clouds
And speed past the day.

Awake, Alive

When my eyes open in the wake of morn
I now become part of the day,
Much like the birds at play,
Much like 'el sol’ and it’s dancing rays,
Much like the wind that incessantly swirls.
The sounds of children far away
and then the absence of sound,
the silence, resounding in my ears,
brings me back reminding me
that amongst all this in a timeless light:

“The endless things are these,
The ageless skies and wrinkled seas;
The silvery beacons of the night,
The fickle moon of transient light.
Unresting winds that seldom sleep;
Rocks that eternal silence keep.
Earth’s mighty sons, the mountains, stand
Unmindful of Time’s withering hand.
Indifferent to the world’s brief woes,
The sun, aloof, forever glows.
Though mortals yield to Death’s decrees,
God’s everlasting things are these.” (Beaudry)

‘this’ is all part of me.