Shift

Glaring upon the faceless visage of time

I find my gaze more penetrating than before.

Within its eyes Perspective dances nimbly a frolicking step full of insight.

The dancer's gift no longer eludes me.

In the once-empty space between the steps

I now find The Old Man breathing softly in his lounge chair

He tells me tales of times gone by

And sharpens my Spade for times to come.

And on the step, a Seed is planted

Each one casting a shadow of Truth

Guiding me to its roots with its growth.

Strength wanes and as I fall out of step

The shadow becomes one with the Darkness

And my eyes turn to more familiar places.