Eyes Wide Open

Eyes wide open

I see the truth.

Eyes wide open

for once, at last.

Treasures dangled as enticements.

A fall from grace tumbles by.

Sixteen and twenty,

counting onward.

The path unclear,

the questions stands.

Hand of temptation

reaches forward,

offering forbidden fruit.

Imprisoned by my own words.

Blinders removed,

I venture inward.

Eyes wide open.

Shutters open,

transgressions escape,

flying wildly

into the void.

The dream a nightmare

pulling me in.

Freedom impossible,

I see the truth.

Eyes wide open.

Hands at the Loom

The fabric of life is a rich tapestry

It is woven on a loom of tears

Stretched the width of our knowledge

And pulled the length of our years

Nimble fingers work the shuttle

Weaving the threads of love

Through the warp of time

Threading below and above

The bobbin is wound tightly

Until our life begins

The days go by swiftly

As the spool unwinds and spins

As the cloth takes its form

It is textured with our pain

It is softened by our sorrow

Full bobbins begin to wane

The years weave a textile resplendent

With touches of silver and gold

Threads of laughter and friendship

Are a true joy to behold

Deft hands work the weft

With each pass by pass

Colorful images of our life

Becoming clear at last

The design is a masterpiece

No one could predict

Only the Master Weaver

For his plan is perfect

Storm Dance

Tall grasses begin to sway

as they dance with the wind.

Prophetic sky morphs to gray,

the storm about to begin.

There is nowhere left to hide.

The tempest sets its course.

Mighty trees bow down low

to the unrelenting force.

It rages on in torrents.

There appears no end in sight,

as fiery streaks of lightning

Split in half the dark of night.

With morning come the sunrise,

tall grasses glistening wet.

Calm once more engulfs all

the world with rain beset.

Sun Salutation

Daybreak pierces night, wiping

away the sleep. Plucking stars

from the heavens, placing them

neatly in a basket made of dreams.

Erasing darkness with amber

streaks, the sun kisses the day.

Dew drenched grasses glisten with

diminutive prism globes. Warmth

overtakes the chill as hours march on.

Clouds drift by announcing their

presence with purple shadows

crowning the land. Time has no

master while light rules the day.

Evening brings with it a daunting

stillness as it invades the glen.

A sleepy day says adieu as it

awaits tomorrow’s sun salutation.

Greeting Tomorrow

Along the path to tomorrow,

we shall meet at the bridge

that spans the unknown universe.

I stand looking off towards the sun.

Going the long way home.

No time for detours.

The crow does not fly

a straight course.

Lost along the road to nowhere,

beliefs evaporate into droplets

of disenchanted time.

Winged chariots fly off

into the sunset, taking with them

our hopes and dreams.

Liberate the thunderbolt.

Unleash the singing hands of time.

For above the clouds,

there are no more castles in the air.

Apple pie scented mornings.

Metaphors meant to be dissected.

As the road reaches another bend,

At last, home is on the horizon.

Ann Christine Tabaka

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