The Ballad Of The Bard

I slip from home
while you sleep.
The world outside
is charging his energies.

My body moves slowly
on the ground, staring
amicably at the dark
skies full of stars.

Who marvels at the
beauty that exists
too tangible to our
hands, too mystical
to our understanding?

There are countless
things that we ignore
everyday.

There are priceless,
precious things that
we cannot restore
when they’re gone.

Who executes a command
so perfectly that
people cannot even
acknowledge?

I return from the
outside and inside
the home, I utter
quiet whispers of
gratitude,

contemplating that I
live this life better
than others and I should
not take it for granted.

2015

About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Ballad Of The Bard

  1. agblythe says:

    “There are priceless,
    precious things that
    we cannot restore
    when theyโ€™re gone.”
    Amen to that. A poem I shall go away and contemplate.

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