Forward, to What's Past

By Josh Hornbeck

One shuffles through the black, beaten door.
Heavy feet drag across a black-chipped tile,
His years a shackle, his experience weight.
Every step forward a chore.

The other enters with giant’s stride.
Purpose and confidence, peace and ease
Radiate from his deepest core –
A center of calm in a hulking mountain of flesh.

The first looks back upon the new,
This fresh-faced ghost of youth, echo of a wasted life.
Passion passing beneath the tired eyes of age,
Decades of compromise compromising his open, honest face.

The second looks up at the first,
Sickly and sad in the burnt orange light,
Choosing a path, a road cold as death,
And death would prefer to such a sad fall.

(Posted 10/17/2009)