Philosopher's Pen

Not made of flesh or bone Beyond sight right before the many eyes Wading an invisible terrain of unearthly dimensions Trying to figure out the right path in the world and beyond Holding your hands hands and forging forward No turning back even if you wished to The best bet is taking a new direction on the invisible's wise counsel Bearing the weight of consequences Good and otherwise Finding ingenious ways to shield you from bullets, arrows and spears Planning for tomorrow for the expected and unexpected Whether it is too tired it has to get up and go on Even when its owner is locked down The invisible guardian gets out to the stormy weather, rocky terrain, thorny field and often lash grass Consistently going through the hustle to get to the greener pastures sometimes also hurts The wounds if not cleaned become many and they fester So, remember, the invisible guardian has to take time to heal Before an illness rolls a six And bingo!!!! The center gives way and you have to start agai

Twenty two years down the line An old grief comes visiting Like a thief robbing me of my happiness When he passed I did not know how to shed a tear I dived across the floor to feel some pain But all I felt and still feel is a shape shifting emptiness That can become anything at anytime From a longing, anguish, and many more faces than I have words to say  Now twenty two years down the line I shed tears for the passing of my old man Who died as young as I am today Twenty two years down the line I wonder what he could have done to make my life better Not the my life is not good enough But there is this feeling that there is something we could do together There is this persistent feeling that we missed something we could do together I close my eyes and shade tears that would and should never show One tear that I should have shade twenty two years ago but never showed I sigh looking at my little boy Thinking that grief is crazy And scars never really heal