Big innings and outings & endings

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At end of day, I close my eyes, it looms.

The thought of night, a bed alone, a room.

Though warmth is there, and memories with friends,

activities, we taught and learned, it wends,

and worms its way in through my ears and eye.

To spell another faithless thought or lie.

I clutch at silver lined thoughts in my mind,

and reach out grasping hands for what I'll find.

The hope inside is dim, forgotten coals.

Just embers glowing faintly in this soul.

I enter into sleep, as if entombed,

as if with all my might this stone to roll.

-- zz --

As morning breaks, and breakfast takes my thoughts,

I turn towards the East, ere this day comes.

That glowing ball of golden light, and warmth,

does much to lift my spirits, and it hums,

this day, with noises out beyond the wall,

of tomb, as suddenly my life returns,

as bee returns to hive again, uncalled,

blank pages of this book, as yet unturned.

And as the day is going, I soon know,

and feel the need to close my eyes, a room,

and darkness that is comforting, it seems,

a hideaway, this baby in the womb.

A poem by "me", this night. 

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Well, thank you my good sir, for all  your words,

of sharing and of caring for what's real.

You've thought about what happens, and "absurd"

surmisings which occur, and which we feel…

As he who felt forsaken in his hour

of desperation, feeling quite alone;

yet thought of Mum left pieced through by some pow'r,

and asked a mate to take her to his home.

And also asked the one he left to take

what vengeance might be needful, to forgive

the people who were killing him, though fake.

I think he knew they hadn't really lived.

Since all men die, it's just not all here live.

And as he said, "Man, who made me your Judge?"

He left that job to God. Asked he'd forgive.

Imperative that his heart did not budge

from following the spirit of the lore

of life, and love, that scattered all around

his gifts of rain that came to rich and poor,

to "righteous" and to "wicked", on this ground

that's holy, since Creator God himself,

has walked upon it, and had food with friends

here on this Earth (that ain't in such good health)

since some divorced the means from all their ends.

And at the end of his life here in  time

(as so it seemed to some folk there back then),

he said a children's bed-time prayer, and chimed:

"Into your hands my spirit I commend."

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