MARION SPICHER

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.

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