Sometimes

Sometimes,

The past descends

Like a clammy cloud,

The present,

Weighed down

With regret,

The future...

A locked door. 

Caught

In the disappointments

Of unchangeable things,

Accused

Without recourse. 

Let the light

Break into this greyness,

Casting off the anchors,

Lifting the soul,

To embrace

The now

And the not yet.