Sorrowful Joy Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Drumming throughout the beauty of imagination is a
pleasant rhythm, causing happiness and joy, living
has begun in me.

Thoughts hopping and jumping in tune with popular
scores on reality and it's jarring preoccupations.

Swinging with the stark light of past images, we
step in time with our pleasures and think about
nothing pleasant as we wend our ways through mazes
of time and strife.

Looking forward to the ending of it's span in life
we fall into a pit of nothing - nothing able to
touch us socially.

Crying out, wailing, creating a space of our own
where no one can touch our little acre here on
earth's hardened orb of stone.

Entailing all of the sorrowful joy brought our way,
we land on feet of clay, molding our way throughout
spheres of play.