To BE Titled

I have been poetically constipated for awhile but some how and some thing inspired me to write today and it felt wonderful.  So here is a poem that is not titled but it's not an Untitled piece.  More like a To Be Titled piece:

I find it hard to focus as times slip through my mind

how moments are spent forgetting our inspirations

and tracking our decisions like hunters hunting

backwards

looking for the turn last taken in a dense, dark forest

we struggle to get through unless we go back down paths

we've trodden; heavy footed and stubborn

reluctant to look up and see

the stars and moons

and in the shadows of where we've already been

we try to spark fires on chard ashes of old habits

and passions

and when we find ourselves alone in trenches

made by our own avoidance of discovery

we sag beneath the surface

like diseased corpses with torn flesh

snagging on brambles of doubt

and deprecation

we're lifeless and listless

blissful and dismal

unaware of where

we've drifted to

And then...

decay brings life

and ferns are born

unfurling with gentle grace

as our eyes begin to open

see ourselves reflected in our tears

and find hands digging in our soiled souls

planting seeds of how we used to feel

when we first found ourselves climbing trees of dreams

and witnessing the sunrise of self-satisfaction

And now....

I find it hard to focus on what was

I keep climbing towards what will be

and find security in what is.