The Moment Poem by bryan wallace

The Moment



Sitting writing in the fading light,
Sun setting across the Causeway Coast
Gentle smirr of rain drifting in from the sea,
Portrush street lights twinkle like distant stars.
The darkening cloud-dappled sky
Reflecting the September sun's orange rays,
Adding a thousand different coloured hues -
Refracted through mist, clouds and atmosphere,
Reflected of sea, cliffs grass and remote houses.

I sit basking in nature's beauty.
My fellow guest's cigarette smoke
Drifts past the window outside,
Uncurling hazy question marks above her head
In the still and darkening night air.
Questions indeed - so many questions!
Why do we trouble ourselves so?

I know where I've been -
Why should I need to revisit the pain?
The ghosts of past mistakes are lurking
In the shadows - but I cannot banish them.
I don't know where I'm bound -
Can we be - by fate allowed
Or own destiny to choose?
We can make plans and dreams
But like the clouds in the sky
Or cigarette smoke in a sea breeze -
Our courses are altered by external forces.

The past it is done and dusted -
Immune from any alteration that we may desire.
The future - it is as yet undecided -
The weathermen cannot tell us -
Which way the wind will blow us.
All we can do - all we can strive for -
Is to enjoy the present moment in which we live.

Sunday, September 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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