TUMBLING WEEDS

The weeds, never self-rooted, not restrained by

Wills of their own, but by the wills of Other. 

Many tumbleweeds stroll by, being propelled

By the winds of time; some good, some ill.

The triumphs and traumas embedded in them

Serve as scenes from afar that one witness as

A judge, like a movie to be viewed and reviewed,

As an unction to be acted upon or discarded to let die.

What mean they, what they meant, should mean,

Should have meant. Images as the past teleported into the

Present, portending a future whose roots are in

The distant and not-so-distant past, yet eons past,

Ages past, eons more, ages more, lives past. Yesterday,

Yesteryear. The past, grandfathers of the present.

The present, grandmothers of the future.

What will the future be – let the 

Tumbling weeds be the silent instructors.

Our future is the witness to the past.

The pasts, witnesses to the present.

The future has no will of its own – it is the

Outcome of the wills of the past and the

Present. Whatever the future will be must

Be established in the present where the past

Is being worked out, which present in

The future is the past. And in all of these, the 

Maker of all things is there also. Tumbleweeds.

 (Thinking on and watching images in the mind, what they mean, what they don’t.)

~Mary H Moore©