Oh to Be Young

August 6^th, 2010

To be in it’s total uncertainty

Of relationships

To women

Family

The world

Friends;

Of yourself

With growth

And yearning

Wants without reason

In the shadows of action and reaction;

Of the future

To where you’ll be

What you’ll do

Whom you’ll meet

And whom you’ll spend it with;

Of the worlds workings

In elections and buyouts

Stock markets and foreign affairrs

Wars and laws;

Of self-devision

Between God

Family

Country

And company,

Society

Home

And health;

Of longevity

With the mysteries

Of one’s genome

Of Alzheimer’s or sera palsy

Cancer or heart attack

Diabetes or stroke

Aneurism or virus

Or suicide

For all the medical bills

And accumulated life insurance;

Of offspring

In sex

In number

In profession

In fecundity

In happiness

In survival.

Will you continue

Through your own future

Into the future of the world

By your future children

Of the future for the future

Until the future’s end?

But those are the thoughts

of the aging and the aged.

The true thoughts of the young,

If there be any,

Are of whether or not they have

Purpose to live

Things left to discover,

And happiness to have and share.

The world is right

Stable

Attainable

And whole.

Life and all the rest all too quickly follow

Until questions are formed,

Questions beget avatars,

And the begotten are questioned by our ages.

A Phone Call Comes

September 8^th,, 2010

In and I can only smile.

A best friend you are,

One who didn’t always

Pursue friends in friendship.

What has changed that you

Utter words of love and longing

From and to the straightest of ears?

Past society and male mass-images

Do you insert yourself,

Your values to cut away

Fantasies, falsities, and facades.

Your heart has always been

One irradiating all

Incident bodies with goodness,

Smiles being the source

Of the souvenir on their cheeks;

A life line of joy being ecstatic.

While the past found us

Cohabitants and mere friends,

The present finds us

Confidants and fathomless minds,

The ranges of infinite possibilities--

While failing in personal perceptions--

Run past the Laurentides in our discourses

Of ages and theories,

Peoples and ideas

Much past their prime

But given a spotlight again

Which lightens the soul’s heavy loads

And illuminates life’s hazy disconnections.

All is well, in its own place,

Either known or understood;

Nothing beyond the scope of

A brain’s finite fires,

Or a God’s will to his creation.

The day without you

will find the candle’s flicker fading

And my fires fleeting to the caves,

The heights forsaken to the mazes

Of a thought in a skyless corner

And a face turned crooked from the fact.