Edges Of Eternity In Imagination Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rocking fruitlessly through this world, grasping moments of
little meaning, holding onto truths told by liars.

Fixating the future, by holding the past too tightly, so
tightly that the present has no voice.

Twisting ever so slightly, attempting to change small
situations, daunted by the pressures and stress constantly
involved.

Tolerated through centuries of passing, allowing sins of
past generations to continue to exist within the present,
darkening, fading any brightness, the future may have held.

Scantily clad images, spinning out of control, seething
inside of the cauldron of false pretenses from long ago.

Thought no more, dried upon arid lips of destiny, blown into
the wind, losing all meaning, finding no reasons of existence
or happenstance.

Likened to edges of eternity in imagination's storehouse,
closed now, barred forevermore, dust gathering, thickening
with the passing moments.