Adventure is not outside man, but within, for you cannot cross the sea by simply staring at the water.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Poem # 29: Our Days Gone By
On life’s chitboard
our tally of “done days” mounts
as our supply of days yet to come dwindles.
Four downstrokes crossed diagonally
measure handfuls of bygone days
as surely as do gray hairs,
receding hairlines,
wrinkles and bulges,
aches and pains,
all providing incontrovertible confirmation
of the passage of personal eons,
as vast deserts of sand grains
swiftly speed through our personal
hourglasses of life.
Always, the upper bulb of our hourglass
remains clouded,
disallowing a glimpse
of the sum of grains yet to flow.
Alas, life has no undo icon
or whiteout bottle,
no gargantuan eraser
poised to eradicate
every oops on our personal
roadmap of life --
all our mis-statements,
errors of judgment,
omissions and commissions,
slights and fights.
We may reflect on bygone days
but can only live the Today
and improve the Tomorrows.
Hence the word hope.
copyright Chuck Morlock 2004
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Poem
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