Pre-measured portions of sun
and winds of fate greet us
when opening our eyes
from dreams well kept
hidden in their nocturnal cloaking.
We reap what we sow from seeds
inherited and those that floated by
on summer breezes
caught in the palms
of youthful hands
too young to know better
too curious to blow them back.
We toil at life
to find meaning and justice
only to be slung backwards into
the realm of unending questions
searching for answers growing on tea leaves
while marred and disfigured statues of justice
stand weeping beside the thorny rose.
Once dreams meant something
beneath covers of woven wools
where we lay naked and mindless
where we left them lay hastily to begin
again a new day of searching and toiling
confident that seeds and their germination
can once again be cradled
by youthful palms and unscathed memories
while the lip twitching taste of sweetened hope
plays on tethered tongues and seduces a sprouting.
Now they are only what they are
far off in some distant fleeting thought
known for the luxury of escape when
toiling is done and pungent fruit hangs rotting
in the pre-portioned light of the sun
as we never knew when to pick
now we lay marred and disfigured by the injustices of life
wrinkled by too many years, too many dreams
too much left in the hands of fate.