The age of yesteryear
Reminds me of how things should be
I see myself running through fields
Endlessly free
I see myself bog bound
As we bring home the turf
I see myself in Delphi
As we learn how to surf
And I can't hold onto the weight 
Of passing time
I can't isolate a memory
And call it mine
And I'm flicking through pages
Though substance be naught
I'm dreaming of sages
In a net where I'm caught
And they call it samsara 
Or the endless spin
They call it karma
But can you let love in
To break across the landscape
Like a sunset to dawn
Can you finally realise
A state where pain is gone 

Photo by Iwan Shimko on Unsplash.com