Sunday Muse
Swirling through sweet life
in a timeless speck of dust
there is a constant struggle.
Molding destinies
with uneven boundaries
hope hangs in between life and death.
The tears of existence
soak in the process of creation and destruction
challenging and daring to exist, to hope and to breathe.
Nothing can destroy
the ingenuity of one's strength
in the aging hands of an experience.
Participating in : The Sunday Muse
This is gorgeous through and through!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie :)
DeleteAh, the "aging hands of experience and tears of existence". A beautiful write!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much :)
DeleteYour poem mimics the movement of the potter's wheel ... I enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteI am glad you liked the poem, Helen. Thank you :)
DeleteIt is the sweat ant the skin shed that gives the strength Sunita.
ReplyDeleteVery true, Rob. Thank you :)
Delete"The aging hands of an experience" goes a long ways here, Sunita. One of my favorite parts is "The tears of existence soak in the process of . . . (actually whatever)".
ReplyDeleteOh yes, I like the shape of your poem, an evergreen tree?
..
Thank you Jim. Yes, it is a shape poem :)
DeleteThere's something in the idea of destinies "with uneven boundaries" that captures my imagination and runs away with it.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much :)
DeleteOh the experience of aging hands is priceless. They speak to all who take time to see and hear them.
ReplyDeleteYes, nothing can beat one's experiences. Thank you, Susie :)
Delete"Molding destinies
ReplyDeletewith uneven boundaries
hope hangs in between life and death."
What a perfect stanza this is!
Thank you :)
DeleteThank you :)
ReplyDelete