If my life is but a day, the afternoon is waning.
The evening’s gulls sail through the mist ... time’s momentum … gaining.
As the sun dips slowly down, it sends arrays of light
Fills horizon’s clouds with pink to ward away the night.
How do I feel about this time? Wanting still to give?
I slowly slip to join the twilight, wanting so to live.
I reach back but can’t retrieve the days that have gone by ….
I can only reminisce, and breathe nostalgic sigh!
Concurrent things do settle in, a sort of letting go ….
Accepting peacefully “what is” and there I too can grow.
Does beauty truly come with age? The quiet gentle knowing?
Facing weakness with great grace ... is it the best of growing?
A streak of absent mindedness, a painful here and there
Ah, yes! Like birth, this death must come. We must begin … prepare.
Relax and watch the growth and learn. Serenity sublime!
For we are not descending here but instead we climb.
Towards we know not what, but trust that Chaos has a plan.
Our lives the blueprint, Birth to Death, the making of a Man.
<a href="https://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="MarionSpicher">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>Tweet