Sunday, 3 January 2016

Age, a Growing Sense of Where Reason Fears to Tread


As I grow older (70 now) I can’t help wondering if I may well have made fewer mistakes in life had I put more trust in heartfelt sensibilities and less in the (arguably) devious designs of reason.

Whatever, what is done is done and can never be undone although (sometimes) compensated for if only in part…provided we have (or can find) the heart for it.

AGE, A GROWING SENSE OF WHERE REASON FEARS TO TREAD

Days, weeks, years,
stretching across a wasteland
like a disused rail track
where ghosts play
at mind games to confuse us
about time lines

Time lines, in a haze
of remembrance playing fast
and loose with Memory
where conscience
pulls our strings and leads us
into shadowy places

In shadowy places,
wandering as lost and alone
as a child whose parent
has, just for a moment
let fall the clinging  hand
into unbearable space

An unbearable space,
this freedom once longed for
with, oh, such passion,
promising the rush
of adrenalin sure to come
with responsibility

Responsibility, moral
obligations where bucks stop
at a scary self-searching
where none so blind
as dare not see, play deaf
to home truths

Home truths, eroding
comfort zones, pulling rugs
from under feet bent
on standing up
to be seen scoring points
over alternatives

Alternatives, for better
or worse, we’ll never know
unless given a voice,
allowed to speak up
put their case from heart,
mind, and spirit

Heart, mind, and spirit.
stretching across a wasteland
like a disused rail track
where ghosts play
at mind games to confuse us
about unshed tears

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016


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