Her Star-dust Smile

She felt, places time forgot were human,
looking from inside the magician’s hat
she saw with all in her heart;
moments in time to taste.
And in her heart, her silly heart
are grains of star-dust
looking for their birth star;
they find her and she finds them,
one little one at a time –
Gathering beneath her eyes,
twinkling dew falling
in fine lines across her cheek
brushed aside by her lips curve
knowing all is well, she’ll sing.        ~IW~


The Anticipation Of Death

Hope is found in anticipation.
Once the anticipated has been met we are left with hope lost.
In this cycle of emerging ourselves in hope for what is or may come and finding ourselves lost upon each roll of the dice when our desires are either met or blocked, it is then we learn to know and face our greatest hope.

Death. Living. Embracing that we are dying, and dying knowing that we lived and live on in all that we anticipated.