So many false starts and blind
alleys have pointed us to lands
we promised to younger selves.
So many good intentions paved
our patios and pathways, not to
hell, but to a kind of anti-climax.
Meaning is not an unfound grail.
It resides in footprints and glows
in each creaking backward glance.
We are never where we want to be.
For now we are somewhere, maybe.
Relax. Catch breath and thank stars.
Tony Noon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem