Any Other Day

As the sun set of this day and the day turns into night, I’m drawn into thoughts of this unusual day. Not a day of laughing, joking and having fun but a day of thought.

A day of thinking into the corners of my mind in to those places covered in cobwebs of things forgotten, buried and put to bed. Dusted off to see the light of day again they bring with them emotions and thoughts I thought I had left behind. Feelings so strong that they well up, consume you and can take over your day that were best kept where they belong.

Just like a careless discarded match can start a forest fire it can take but one random thought so insignificant you didn’t even notice it’s passing. This is today, a careless thought that passed me by and started a process of thinking that has no conclusion and no end that I can control.

The words I have are not match those of this poet from long ago. Who in his magic sums up the feelings of my day and within his poem I found a place to rest the thoughts of the day.

The Day is Done, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is done, and the darkness

Falls from the wings of Night,

As a feather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village

Gleam through the rain and the mist,

And a feeling of sadness come o'er me

That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,

That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles rain.

Come, read to me some poem,

Some simple and heartfelt lay,

That shall soothe this restless feeling,

And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,

Not from the bards sublime,

Whose distant footsteps echo

Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,

Their mighty thoughts suggest

Life's endless toil and endeavor;

And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,

Whose songs gushed from his heart,

As showers from the clouds of summer,

Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,

And nights devoid of ease,

Still heard in his soul the music

Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet

The restless pulse of care,

And come like the benediction

That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume

The poem of thy choice,

And lend to the rhyme of the poet

The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music

And the cares, that infest the day,

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,

And as silently steal away.

So as I sleep I go, I just hope to dream and put these thoughts to bed. They are just thoughts that have no meaning unless you give them life. Tomorrow is a new day and not this day. A new day for of life and hope. I just have one wish was left unfulfilled, I wish they had come on any other day but this, for this was meant to be a day of joy.

The past has gone and the future is bright and into it we walk with dreams anew to light my way and on that path we take the good. Just always know what is right and true.

Just never give up!