Looking through the old photograph tin
I find a young boy with so much promise
He had so many paths open to him
He dared to dream the impossible
I took a picture of myself
Placing it in a frame and sat back
Who is this person?
what is this shell?
He only dreams of grabbing tumbleweed
And wrapping himself around it,
Enjoying the silence
Never caring for the journey.
The only dreams I remember are these;
Chasing my wisdom through the corridors
Of a racing self belief.
Hearing voices belittling me daily,
Toasting my useless carcass
Hating that each new day
Has dawned again.
Then the voice laughed
And in my dream he boasted
In senryu
"You have wasted life
Time will never be a friend
Cry for a chance gone"
