In the white-washed after-light of day
Another year silently ebbs away
Unlike the passing of a storm
The landscape remains unscathed, untransformed
No tortured, ragged aftermath
Where we can trace its powerful path
But simply a trickle of laughter and sorrow
The mystery of moments hid in tomorrow
The blink of an eye
The tick of the clock
A wistful sigh
The sobering shock
In the realization
Of time’s soundless hastening
A sudden revelation
A wordless chastening
As our wee mortality
Stares us in the face
And we ponder the futility
Of the human race
And life's silent storm
Leaves its trace on our brow
As we become
A little older now…….
Janet~
Today my brother...11 years younger than I,
asked me if I think I'm in the best years of my life.
I told him 'I think so'....and then I said...11 years ago
I knew so:) How will we really know what the 'best years' are?
But, my dear brother, this I know WE CAN'T STOP TIME.....
so count your blessings, not your wrinkles....of course you
don't have any...yet:)
Happy 34th B-day, Calvin!!!
Indeed, the truth. Thank you Janet. "The best years..." See how many years we can fit under this caption. hahaha I think one of the main things for me is to be able to know at my sunset years that I did not just live a life of motions but rather that I gave my best.
ReplyDeleteThanks again.
Yes, a little older now….. You captured it all, the many ways of thinking about passing time, getting older.
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