AnimalWhisperer Caswell 121  

Fresh Footprints

Fresh footprints in the sands of time and life.

Fresh footprints free from trouble and from strife.

Fresh canvases to draw

 The pictures and stories of life once more.

 Concentric circles moving fast.

 Spirals  higher than the past,

And the imprints and images turn fresh and anew,

As we step out lightly in the dawn’s fresh dew.

Deserted Sidewalks

As I walk along the roads in dead of night,

I see nothing and no one, save deserted sidewalks,

Where people used to laugh and talk

 And play and walk, in times of day.

But now in times of night where I walk alone,

Save with my loyal trusted companion,

Who asks nothing more than to be with me,

And to smell the scents, that abound at night.

Far different from the smells that abound in day.

The night is silent , save for the slight swish of our clothing,

And the faint tinkle of our jewellery,

And these  sounds are borne along on the slight night breeze,

Peculiar only to this time, and this dimension.

This time is ours, a freedom borne of space,

And the silent parked cars, that tell the tale,

Of others not so far away, that slumber now,

As we awake, and come alive to run with Energies ,

That only we can see and hear.

For when daylight comes around once more,

And all those weary travellers return again,

To  struggles only they can tell of,

But  won’t, for they believe this is their fate,

And silently, with faces straight as pokers,

 Trudge their weary way through life, as it is to them.

But you and I, we know different, for we are snug,

In the arms of an Energy and a space,

That they as yet cannot access.

So we sleep, the sleep of inner knowledge, and wait once more,

For the circle to turn again, when we will walk the sidewalks,

So deserted,  not to us, for we see what the other eye does not,

And the other ear cannot hear.

So we walk  deserted sidewalks on our own for many a year.

And wait  for the awakening of souls,

Who as yet  know not they sleep.

And they slumber still