On the Metaphysics of Old Age Clumsiness

A certain clumsiness comes with old age
Almost another adolescence
We stumble–
On our words, footsteps, and
even our prognostications about life
All else keeping us awake at night

A certain clumsiness comes with old age
Even when we’re just sixty
Thinking back, I remember
When my parents were where I am today–
Clumsily closer to nonexistence–
Where all is lost, including ourselves

A certain clumsiness comes with old age
And then, there is nothing
Even the clumsiness ends
Once we get out of our own way
And allow our stream of existence to empty back
Into life’s sea of new possibilities

innocent eyes spotting a deer in the wildflowers

lone deer standing so very tall
amidst a patch of spring wildflowers
wearing, as they always do, long stems
and remarkable yellow-red headdresses

not a far off place, a simple place nearby
where spring makes its way past–
all the nonsense, indifferent faces
standing between you, me, and joy
transcending the imagined realities, even
the promises we hoped for as children
forgot as adults, yet
linger as ghosts in our souls

strange but it finally ends–all of it
the pretense, promises, misplaced and forgotten words
losing all effect, ultimately giving back to us
the innocent eyes that gave birth to us
those spotting the lone deer in the wildflowers

A January Eve Riddle

We can choose to forget or remember
Depending upon our current reality
We are now just past December
Last signs, youthful vitality

Truth a mere lost vanity
Younger years, days gone by
Sparing all humanity
Hopes, dreams, say goodbye

Amidst the rush, long winter storm
Nights and days lose all form
Tell us why we should conform
Live we shall to transform

These dire times to be overcome
Onward, upward, way beyond
So much left to become
Then alas waves life’s magic wand

Confessions on a Bitter Cold January Morning

Slipping away each day
Life, but also illusion
Forgetting at times—
A good thing
Cleansing, renewing us
Purging the insanity
Killing off our joy

On this bitter cold January morning
The wildfire inside me rages
Consuming everything in its path
Including the faded goodness
I wear so proudly
As armor against death
And its deceitful bantering

The alchemist stirs the words
In familiar self-serving circles
The search for magic ends
No gold
Just more feeble incantations
Taking their turns
Dancing with time in poetic armor

Reminding Myself at the New Year’s Beginning

A new year begins
In one sense, completely new
Different than all others
In another sense, like all the others
Peppered with unanswerable questions

On this new year’s first day
I pause, remind myself
We live in each moment
One breath at a time
Each a miracle, a blessing

Also, I remind myself
We only truly live
When we align
With what’s real inside us
That giving us our heartbeat

The world is filled with lies
The biggest one remains
The illusion of permanence
That anyone or anything lasts
Past its time

Resolutions are fruitless
Leading us astray
Causing us to miss our real lives
Those fleeting milliseconds we exist
Just tiny ripples in the universe’s eternal vastness