Thoughts, Evoked on a Reread of Frost and Mowing

Thoughts, evoked on a reread of Frost and Mowing

"...There was never a sound beside the wood but one,
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground..." ~ R. Frost, Mowing

A world rolls - some times forwards,
others not - at times to the sides -
occasionally

Imperceptibly;

But always rolling, never stopping.
Hearts given and hearts taken, desire -
licking like flame through the forest -
wanes, waxes.

Seasons, people, beliefs,hopes
and fears, these come - these go;
the great cycle rolling with naught
but change the sole constant for that
boulder balanced between
the edges.

Scarred, chipped - still unbroken
he stands, half-shadowed
in primal forests of past, half-
drenched in the sunshine
of today - unwilling, unable -
unsure which - to take his place
in either.

Unchanging change, and the wood.

Always -
there is the wood,
and the stacking,
the breathing for a man
caught between lives;
trapped

By you -
and himself.

_{(Saturday, July 23, 2011 @ 21:09)}