Saturday, July 05, 2014
The Season of Truth
Aging is an ever-schooling process with regular tests.
Extreme aging is the important test on all that was learned.
The luck is in being able to show up for that test.
I search those independent stars for answers
Then down against the ink-black shadows of the woods to the twinkling fireflies,
stars themselves, dancing with a glow that is fickle.
I mournfully accept that another summer
is already mid-way gone.
But even now with brown freckled hands
covered in onion-skinned parchment
I still have no answers to the most important questions.
Why this tiny point in the Cosmos?
Where do I fit in this paradigm?
Was there a Master plan?
Can I ask more questions?
As the velvet morning creeps in,
I listen for an answer and hear only the song of the frog.
I hear only a dry leaf dancing with the breeze.
I hear the staccato machine-gun chirp of the cardinal
Waiting for his morning coffee.
I can ask all the questions that I want.
I bargain for more time.
Maybe this autumn will bring my answers.
I hug each season greedily to my heart
as if it were my last.