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Like far-off forlorn coyote's cry,

or black cat crossing midnight meander,

moments in time's passing by

leave me to spurt words in candor;

yet my heart often plays the fool

dancing alongside kings and queens

who tend to break or bend the rules,

assuring end justifies means.

I stumble along the path of lies-

I hear the coyote, meet the cat;

the fool is transformed, I am wise.

Queens and kings could not do that.

This interlude has made me smile.

You touched my heat with true Bourne style.

I know living in reality for some hurts.

Today I'm neutral,thanks to your poem.

bye...

Time is a stealty creature, often hurtful, rarely standing still. Your poem flows like the River of Time.

Very relevant for me in my current state of mind.

Much enjoyed.

Hi Gene, I will say I enjoyed this in a most relative way, though it pained me as well as brought encouragement.

Last stanza a gripping sense, all the rest as much, but that put it in my face, again, as often it does, that we never truly know our shelf life, our end time, thouh some of us can more acutely suspect it.

Every moment lived, another lifetime.

"I feel, like you are with me dancing -

a glimpse of what-may-have-been entrancing an instant to stretch,

then mind returns, the current sights intrude, fetching with them the too-familiar -

My fantastic faded desire for a - Yes - some highly - expensive - moment - expanded

Higher Reality eludes my tired brain - I`m stranded -

Again."