Thursday, November 5, 2020

fickle now my days

 

fickle, oh so fickle are the days where

one day my spirit is enthralled just by

opening mine eyes to awaken to the

morning’s delight, walking thru my day’s

sojourn and then waving at the sun as it

lays to rest for the day and i smile at the

stars and moon as they arrive to watch

o’er life’s nocturnal stay

 

the next day my arms and legs, my mind

recognize the many years worn and the

feebleness of my body and spirit to rise

and greet the day wondering what will

 come of it, not in joyous exuberance but

in the challenges that may occur to wane

my lifting spirit or to cause my heart to

lament and mine eyes filled with tears

 

i beckon the spirit of the universe to share

with me its wisdom as to how to make a

choice that will lift me once more to that

time when once my youth filled spring of

spirit abound and these cruel years of age

with the pangs be assuaged and the angst

of life’s slings mitigated, so that my years

left, and i will rise to the delight of day 

and sleep gently in the night

 

 

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