Turning, I looked over my shoulder,
I was watching life’s scenes reappear,
when I looked in the mirror I was older,
with the cries of past sins in my ears.
The past feels like a dark valley,
or a dark forest where soldiers were slain;
muddy rivers from a great storm’s finale,
an old mansion with spirits, insane.
And how do I find a wise answer,
to leaving the past far behind?
Sin glares from afar like a dancer,
whose smile is erotic and kind.
Wave upon wave of each memory,
crashing the shores in my mind,
pushing the sands of experience,
into dunes on a beach I can’t climb.
Until finally the winds of tomorrow,
grab hold and they rush me away;
To a place where there is no more sorrow;
and my mind always stays in today.
Scott Biddulph © 2013