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Dan Medina

Interpret My Thoughts

To these things seen- what ode is there to memories past?
of people known, of places cherished
of times and cities, of oceans, of nightmares, of love, of hatred
of good, of evil

Of these things, is there an ode?
a song's soft whisper, a moment's touch
a distraught feeling, a cynical being.

It makes no sense-am I blind?
Is there a light to embrace?
or have I fallen from this race?

A race of what? Of peoples? of nations? of cultures? of times?

What is it to be human?

These questions I dare not state.
The answers a blessing? - Or unwanted fate.

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Father Time

Father time, oh father time,
what memories are held in your bosom?
And warm moments locked in your core.
Those memoirs of bliss so stowed away
by the graceful sweep of your second hand,
and days so aptly tucked away from reach.

Father time, oh father time,
you have seen so many beautiful faces
and genuine smiles anchored so deeply in this essence,
to which none you will abandon, and none you will forget

An endearing love, a selfless endeavor,
governed over this profound diversity.
To share, to laugh, to embrace, to hold, to love.
Lest never forget, and always cherish,
father time, oh father time...

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