This Life Poem by jim hogg

A giant flake of falling snow;
a symbol of the great unknown;
a history of more than life;
the mysteries of endless time.

We set off down the usual road
towards the building of a home,
with many loves inside our heads,
but most of all, the love of self.

And bittersweetly stride by stride,
we loosen and begin to slide,
in this great teeming web of need.
Some days it's just the wind and me.

So many choices compromised;
a time of reckoning arrives;
a trillion stars, her perfect mouth;
a falling moon, the rising doubt.

The same old streetlight shadows creep
to keep their secrets out of reach.
And hopes, we must have had a few,
but rushed a bunch of stupid moves.

A raven glides high overhead,
above these lives that rose and fell.
We dreamt of pearls, not breaking stones,
when six of us once played alone.

(chorus)

But there's a certain sweetness in
this living and this dreaming thing;
the rule and beauty of the flesh;
the hand we offered now and then;
the moonlight on a frosty night;
the love that slayed us for a while.

280520