Each day that passes is a tick of the clock, and although I live in paradise (see pics) small things rob me of the experiences that really matter. Defining what really matters is almost a life long lesson, all I know now is in my eighth decade, i have a clearer idea. I don’t want anything that spoils my loving relationships, nor do I want to leave anyone behind who will be lost without me. I want to share everything with them as well as write something that’ll move a person or two whether I’m here or not.
Today i have been mulling over some important challenges and choices that I face, and I am resolved to change nothing.
Tonight we will have some chums over for dinner, share some good food and some decent wine, what a joy, what a lucky bugger I am. I just want it all to go on.
I’m older than I used to be……
I’m older than I used to be,
I remember yesterday quite clearly
I was clever smart and sharp,
each day had purpose
Now I’m not so sure, what to do.
I search for yesterday.
No one knows nor cares about my worth,
my talent or my wit.
Each day that passes is lost in nemesis,
What can I do to stop the rot,
the decay of sitting still and waiting
For publisher or acolyte to call, – they never do.
How shall I shout and make the world aware
of all I have to offer.
The world shouts back in stony silence,
alarming with disinterest,
The insistence to do something
rings hollowly from within,
I cannot stand that silent din of emptiness,
come muse and help me sing,
What music is irrelevant,
as long as there is a tune,
It’s mine that no one else can play
or write or paint or sing.
It matters not that no one hears,
perhaps the word will entertain
When I am dead and gone,
the words echoing in my wake,
Perhaps they too will die silently,
unknown unread and dead.
No one will care, so why all the trouble
to make a new creation?
I have no idea, – to fill the days?
To live In hope of some tiny immortality?,
But if those words and songs,
they die with me. So what?