Aging Fingers Grasp At The Past

Aging fingers grasp at the past

While winds of change buffet them at every turn.

Quiescence is unnatural,

Steamrolling those that refuse to align.


Each generation flavors their water,

Drinking from the fountain of their creation;

Shaping the new world in the vision of the time.


Neither we nor our Constitution were meant to be stagnant,

Fluidity is what protects us, what progresses us.

We must put aside our antiquated notions of the past,

For as society evolves, we too are obliged to evolve,

Lest we die as a nation and as a people.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

The Grand Discovery

My reflection in the mirror,

A vision of the anti-me,

Not of flesh and blood,

Who am I?

What defines me?

A grandson,

A son,

A husband,

A parent,

I am all of these,

And yet I am none of these,

Reaching inside myself,

My essence floods over me,

I am so much more.

A poet,

A musician,

A story teller,

A friend,

Passionate and compassionate,

Creative and thoughtful,

Not merely what I outwardly project.

Yet who am I,

That remains a question for which I have no answer,

Ever evolving, I am constantly reborn,

Constantly discovering and rediscovering,

That which makes me…me.