On bad days, I awake wondering if maybe Don Quixote wasn’t on to something in his belief of pursuing impossible dreams.  Other days, I dare to dream these.

Tilting Mental Windmills
by Michael Romani

Captured frames from your window
Map the layers of your mind
The musician's tears play the flow
As the twenty-first century blurs into seek and find

A cornucopia of decisions made too fast
In the hope of holding onto something that will last
Life after death loses its fear as we near that door
Knowing that fragments of us will live on beyond our days

Two hands join into that something held together
As we embrace this brave new world hoping for better
The pain felt cuts deep, and yet, is mere perception
We must go that too far to get beyond our deceptions

We quietly plead for help in our feigned bravery
Once we find our best answers are often knavery
Each day woken up late by staying up into early
Wondering at our brain fog and feeling kind of surly

Puzzled by all things our minds dazzle in riff
As we hold onto life cherished with Kung Fu grip
Daily walks through the corridors of our experience
Can we help but wonder if mind trips are set by preference

Surely time is time and yet it remains subject to will
We blink in the daze jonesing for our thrills
Curiously stricken poses in the collaborators we choose
Bound by all we are, we find we win as we lose

It seems that the world itself belongs to everyone
We learn and know this more as each day is done
And yet, the same is not true of each moment's glory
We awake each day tilting windmills in humanity's story

(c) February 2, 2020  Michael Romani
All Rights Reserved