Carpe Diem

I learned very early,
what to do with opportunity;
take it while it sits
for it never rests long.
If a chance is there, seize it.
For you to smile as you reminisce
opportunities must be grabbed and kissed
for there will always be an opportunist
who’ll snatch for the chances you will miss.

Some hold moments in their grasp
as if trying to hold onto mercury,
they glisten and sparkle, then fingers unclasp
and the tiny sliver of a moment drips and slips away

Gone.

The times I recall I will most regret –
were when laziness and fear were so alike.
When pause turned into deep reflect
and though I saw I did not strike.
Ephemeral dreams? No longer for me,
No longer will I bask in reverie.
Should good fortune not knock for me
I’ll build a door, usher in opportunity.
Wise men make more chances than they find,
as they seek adventure they keep in mind
that the sun will rarely re-appear
on the same horizon it last did shine.

Oh the chances I did take,
the plunges I couldn’t resist;
as conscience whispered ‘stay away,’
heart urged me to persist’.
Fingers sometimes intertwined
fleetingly held the dream close,
in butterfly moments I thought them mine
as the ice at my core unfroze.

Impositions of contingency mist up the eyes;
I went where I could not see,
pushing the edge farther and farther,
believing in the “opportunity”.
Oft times I erred, when fired by passion
reason let go of the reins.
Fish-like I’d bite at the bait of fascination
ignoring the hook and its pain.

I may run, stumble, walk or fall,
people will welcome or spurn me
but I’ll never lose sight of the moon and the stars,
or the rainbows to view on each journey.
It takes sun and rain for those rainbows to appear,
would souls have colours, if eyes shed not a tear?
So I will treat life as if the sky is a canvas,
blue and clear of hassle and badness,
I’ll hurl a kaleidoscope into the blankness,
vibrant and shimmering to colour out sadness.

Yes I take chances; and yes,
times I’ve cried
but no-one will ever say about me
“he’s the one who never tried.”
Life may be a melodic lament
other times a trampoline made of cement.
Sometimes the lyrics to life’s tune are crap,
existence – a honeyfied death trap.

Life with its unspoken secrets,
unforgotten loves and un-reached dreams.
Perhaps irreversible regrets, which
colour thoughts bleak and mean.
Not for me rueful self-condemnation –
for trying and losing – no remorse.
Chances sealed behind padlocked combinations, inside the safe of course!
But life’s thrills emanate from going for it
and a willingness to bear the cost
of unlocking your spirit and vitality.
The way to live is to realize one day it will be lost. –
So I fell, hoping she’d catch me.

I have learned to pick up myself from the pile
dust myself down and start over.
It will linger and hurt and every once in a while
I’ll be tempted to look over my shoulder.
I have memories but there’s nowhere on earth
as far away from me as yesterday.
I have treasures but what is their worth
If I trip over them on my way?

I shan’t sacrifice myself ‘tween those thieves of joy:
tears for yesterday and fear of tomorrow.
I can’t carry the corpse of history
wherever I go or whomever I follow.

Faces and bodies and minds and hearts
come into our lives their grace to impart
Some stay awhile – as she did;
some leave their print on my soul.
The mark she made will stay til the grave;
as a part of what makes me whole.

Pete Ak