The waves tiptoe gently over my river so deep
A river longing to speak
...
The Impotence Of Hope
Hope beguiled me
Harking lost yesterdays, fat tomorrows
Trying to make me miss ‘today'
By worrying about what should be
But what good is hope,
If not a ‘trussed up' past
A lamentation of lost longings, missed loves,
The regret of a life lived too fast
That which is new, hope can never say
For hope feeds on memory, on reproach
Trying to fix life the familiar way
Then why is it that Tomorrow, when it comes,
Looks like Today?
So I choose to live this day, intensely, wholly
Plunge into its mystery, its wonder, its play
Letting it weave its story, have its say
Today is ‘now', it's me'
The ‘me' of raging possibility
No longer do I seek this impotent hope
Of what ‘should' be
For I am living it right now
What I need to be
Passionate, joyful, free