At the End of This Day

Poetic prose about wonder, uncertainty, and hope.

At the end of this day I wondered, how will I be tomorrow, as when in that moment, the faceless frames of fear have put upon me hands of steel, and threaten my will in mornings I’m never longing for, when in nights before the coming of each next day

As the welded bolts seize and reduce will to defeat, and cease the movement to put foot upon floor, yet in my weakness hoping time will reveal secrets, in whispers faintly heard, that give me rhyme and reason to be spared the undeserved, and to be pulled me from the creases that I slip silently through each day. Wondering only then, if ever there to be another way.

At the start of each morning, though it comes without warning and arrives in spite of me, I lie in bed unwilling to thrash the indolence that I feed upon each day. Yet, in those very moments, the remnants of dreams seep from ghostly corners in my misty state of mind, and from my tangled dreams, I shall not fall asunder, or let my thoughts lead me astray.

When the Word had come about, with amorously willing splendor, I too then came about. I pondered with curious wonder that the Word would lead me to Hope – A simple apparent Truth of Hope. Knowing then, that Hope is a good thing, and perhaps the best of things that this world has to offer – On this day – For each thing – If in the present you remain – Only then does Saṃsāra meets its final day.

Within the wonder of Hope, I remain ever knowing that I shall see another day, in spite of my worried blunders. I shall not merely survive, as do virtues live in valleys of precious vow, but with earnest I shall seek but to thrive, and not just be alive, as only then shall I bask in the glory of the very utterance of these simple words to say….

Ever Present…

Ever Clear..

I Am Here to Stay.

Read More of My Writing On:

• Artfully Autistic and Neurodiverse Writers – In Our Own Words
• Illumination-Curated
• Illumination
• The Art of Autism
• The Mighty