There is a sadness to it,
This realization that I will end,
That every moment is GONE
So many times I flinch and realize:
That moment will never be and there will be fewer moments with each step
Each breath passed
Each word I speak
There is no maudlin sentimentality
Reminding me like a school boy that
Summers end is near
That school approaches but
That school was
The lessons I learned and lived
Then let slip away as I approached a great surprise
There is a plodding sadness and sense of wonder to it
So often when I DESIRE something new and think:
This is the LAST car
Fine piece of music
I may own or experience.
At times I have a morbid sense of wonder of…
What WILL be the last film I see?
The last music I hear
The last words I may speak
Will any of it have meaning?
Will I have HAD any meaning with anything I said or did?
How egotistical is it of me to WANT so many things before I END.
How many billions have come and gone NOT having what I had or want yet in their own ways…
HAD their own wish lists
Desires to fulfill
Or breathe out a hiss of laughter laughing at themselves for WANTING so much
So much that had so little or no meaning.
I wonder with so much humor
Surprise and frustration,
That of all the books I read
There were never any on how to be young
Be middle aged
Be old grow old
What voice do I speak with at such times?
Was it something people taught generation to generation?
This is the voice of age…?
Aging is something that cannot be taught
Perhaps Dignity and Honor are
By example to live
To possibly die with.
Desiring more before I die
I feel the empathetic Reality of so many that have come and gone
NOT able to live so rich and good as I did
Not able to desire more than… another chance
In the end,
Another breath before dying
A breath like a long drink of cold water on a hot day
That sweet scotch after a long life of sobriety
Oh one… Last.
All the people I knew in my past are lives past
The images and voices fade into the night
As I face a night that will most likely come in the day.
All whom I loved or cared about are gone
At times I turn to them
To a door inside
Pounding on it beseeching them to come back up the stairs from the past to me,
Then turn away
Leave the door it’s best that way.
There is a coldness as those I loved and cared about
Like garments on a cold winter’s day
Leaving me cold and bereft of love
My fingers reaching for other fingers long gone
As I walk through a field of light toward that rainbow of shadows some day
Mourning a moment
A life regrettably momentarily felt to be wasted
Oh hush no regrets…
You lived a good life
Raise your head high without regret
Smile and snarl
As you enter that rainbow of shadows and night.