Looking back it seems quite sad remembering the thoughts I've had, a few were good, some more were bad, and several now seem quietly mad. But most were idle, quickly spent poor musings of such small intent they were forgotten as they went; I cannot call them heaven sent. The many, many things we say the way we act in work or play, the small steps taken every day acquire mass along the way. Like stitches in a wedding dress they bind us to this sordid mess that is our life, and I confess to moments here and there of stress. To pondering about it all at times when fate makes me recall my life, much like a shopping mall where I can stroll from stall to stall. To taste the tapestries of days and find so little's there to praise amidst the shadows and the maze of endless errors and delays. To rue the many chances lost, to know the thresholds never crossed and hearts left shivering with frost from fear of fear or of the cost. Yet moments spent in thoughtful flight touching the spirit's awesome might push back the bound'ries of my sight and spice my calmer days with light. Just as our food is blessed by salt so these rare moments bring a halt to mediocrity's assault and creeping shadows seeking fault. Thus I shall call myself well blessed to hope my life is not in jest, and take from time to time some rest to wonder if Iill pass Life's test.