While I was still working and needed to fill time, I would clear my mind of thoughts and jot them down in my OneNote app. I might write a few lines. or make a note on something that I saw or heard. In some cases, even years later, I would finish what I started and transfer the final product to my growing collection of poems. This morning I completed one of these “unfinished symphonies.” The first half doesn’t necessarily match my current state of mind, since it tends to be a bit darker than the ending.

Clouds of Doubt

,

Plenty of clouds,

A whole lot of rain.

Sometimes I think,

I might go insane.

.

I’m far from famous,

No worth to my name.

More moments of peace,

Than flashes of fame.

.

The older you get,

The better you were.

And the more misfortune,

You’ve had to endure.

.

What we accomplish,

Defines who we are.

Whether the President,

Or behind the bar.

.

If I weren’t what I am,

What would I be?

And If I were blind,

What would I see?

.

Is the grass greener,

On the other side?

Have you been successful,

Or haven’t yet tried?

.

Are games your life,

Or your life but a game?

Is it full of glory,

Or filled with shame?

.

Is all that you’re after,

Those material things?

Or is life more than,

Collecting brass rings?

.

What is it,

That you’re missing?

Whose derriere,

Needs kissing?

.

Lots of questions,

Clouds of doubt.

What is good living,

Really all about?

.

Should you think less,

Or is there more?

What does the future,

Have in store?

 .

Will there be rainbows,

And a pot of gold?

Will there be happiness,

When you get old?

 .

Will the clouds part,

And blue skies appear?

Or will you have to wait,

Until next year?

 .

Who has the answers,

And what do they cost?

Will there be solutions,

Or will all be lost?

.

Life is a mystery,

With no guarantees.

It can lift you up,

Or take out your knees.

 .

It’s all up to you,

Sunshine or rain?

Why are you smiling,

With others in pain?

 .

Try to find balance,

Learn to give back,

Share what you have,

Don’t step on a crack.

 .

What’s the message?

How does this end?

Don’t take more love,

Than you can send.

.

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com