CHAFF AND THE GRAIN

the images of a dying past float by as if nothing has changed

they deceive in their repitition

misinform with indiscretion

and all i can do is stare

i watch the smiles the frowns the drunken faces

as they jangle past my vision

i yearn for a return to that world which i never really inhabited

that world that could have been mine but i chose differently

the past is all lies

its what we reconstruct

its what we wish to remain

when all the chaff has been blown off into the wind we gather around

and stare at the grains

but the loss and hearthache remains

flying freely in the wind

searching for a place to land

untethered to the basket and the grain

released to do what they will