THE MISTS OF TIME

                     [Photo Source: Google internet images "fog"] 

(9 Sep 2012  Once again I awake from a Dream – the story a continuing saga, the players the same, the time always the Past, and the tears still damp on my pillow.  Life goes on with the 'golden hours' of the first and last hours of sunlight putting paid to the ordinary routine.  Then the magic quality of warmer hues of Living -- give way to the gray shadows in a Landscape of Dreams.)

Like a fog – memories of the Past surface, and the Present vanishes in a gray mist.

 

Reality becomes a series of scenes from the Past that intrude upon thoughts disjointed -- but continuous as in a soap opera story where one is really Living only in the memories -- and the time in between does not exist.  The story is never ending – but with never a happily ever after.

 

Such is the nature of Loss and Grief that take their toll subtly – minute by minute, day by day, year by year – with every tear, until the person who emerges is not the same, but a gray shadow of their former self.

 

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]

Whispered Secrets in a Fog

                             [Photo Credit: Google online images]
  

(30 NOV 2011 – Some words cast new shading on everything one thinks about themselves – now, yesterday, and tomorrow.  How sharp the contrast between my Heart's Abode – now worn and faded with Time's despair – and the images that flash across a reluctant mind, as dazzling and fresh as ever.  Some memories burn too hot to ever fade in the early morning fog.  dht)

 

The softest of breezes ruffles the morning's gray Fog –

Where whispered Secrets are spoken in hushed tones –

Where wisps of a new day play in the early mist.

Astonishing how a few short fierce words can pierce the gray of the world with a single beam of insight.

Then the Sun marches forth to reveal the Mysteries of a brilliant sky –

Then the Whippets of gray disperse in the sunny warmth of a new day.

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr – 2011]