Portraits of time gone by
are displayed in the library of my mind,
but more visible are the shades of yesterday,
still and framed,
hanging on the walls of time.
I ponder my own creation as i see myself
carrying the wounded from the battlefield,
but no where can i find my beginning.
The world exists but no one admits
to its futility, for if the world were only legendary
then there would not be a foundation for hatred.
Pure goodness is the basis of the celestial sphere,
but it does not account for totality.
Perhaps no one is utterly complete,
but it seems all life must first start as a seed,
which makes me question my own conception and my own perception of life.
Living in the in-between raises my awareness…but still…
i find myself without answers.
–t. vernuccio
