401. No One Likes an Ending

No one likes an ending.

No one likes to cry.

No one likes to hold the hand,

Of someone who will die.

No one likes an ending.

Endings are always sad.

No one likes to think about,

The time that one soul had.

No one likes an ending.

The unsurety. The change.

No one likes to say goodbye,

And face the new and strange.

No one likes an ending.

No one likes to cry.

No one likes to think about,

How all things must one day die…

–To make way for future birth.

Everyone likes beginnings.

Beginnings are always glad.

Everyone likes to laugh and love,

So please do not be sad.

No one likes an ending,

But endings clear the way,

For new things to bear,

The hopes of each yesterday…

–Ever onward, toward the future.

K. Aldaya, 6/24/17

Picture: http://www.grandparents.com/family-and-relationships/family-matters/teaching-grandfather-to-hug

135. The Fortunate End

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Oh my darling cry thee not,

When in the murky waters lie,

‘Mersed deep and sought…,

Smothered ‘neath the open-sky,

Over my corpse weep not.

Oh my darling mourn thee not,

For natures’ course has finally met,

The fortune of the long unwrought,

For many suns and moons have set,

With dirty-hands, which hard have fought!

K. Aldaya, 4/19/05

Picture:  A fashion photograph taken at Weeki Wachee Spring, by Toni Frissell, first published in Harper’s Bazaar (December 1947); http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weeki_Wachee_Springs#/media/File:Weeki_Wachee_spring_10079u.jpg

123. End of Dreams

Tranquility…

Drips of a dream.

Conjuring a restful stream.

In timid waters floating by,

Raindrops from a broken sky…

Do sentence it all as lie!

Serenity,

Can be thou true,

Though immersed in times awakening dew?

Twilight doth carry….floating by…..

Poisons of moments gone by.

Innocence lost.

Dreams drip…die…

K. Aldaya, 2/20/05

118. The End is Here

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He knocked on my door,

To show that he is here.

Tall, dark, and frightful.

Morosely laughing,

Provoking sound fear.

Traducing the silence,

Bitter-shrieks of mis’ry,

Not out from within,

But stolen;

Ripped forth out from me.

Sharply he turns back,

Quick, flees out the doorway.

Came in just as he left,

“You can’t ever leave,

Right here you will stay!”

Day ‘vades his exit.

Window-rays torment well.

With uncertainty,

Time laughing,

As tolled: the End Bell!

K. Aldaya, 2/1/05

Picture:  “The Old Wooden Door” by Dan Tucker: http://www.photographybydantucker.com/; http://www.photographybydantucker.com/gallery2.php?ImgCatIDurl=1&ImageID=133&page=4