A glacier
Placed the boulder.
The boulder did not ask.
The sky
Fell upon the dinosaurs.
They did not choose.
One day,
The Sun
Will summon the Earth.
The Earth cannot refuse.
Epictetus knew
The universe
Takes no notice.
And somewhere,
Despite this vast indifference,
A human heart
Remains free to respond.
Not even kings,
Not even Caesars,
Can disturb
The sanctuary of human thought.
They were together so many years.
Their old wooden lawn chairs next to each other,
Touching slightly at the arm rest,
Looking out at the world from the same angle,
Contemplating the parade of life unfolding.
Together so many years.
That view from the chairs so familiar,
Yet somehow always new.
It was their contented place,
Touching slightly at the arm rest.
So many years…
The lawn chairs supported them,
Directed their view,
Provided a sanctuary,
Touching slightly at the arm rest.
Oh, I cannot bear to take the chairs away.
I cannot bear to take them away.
The flowers are still here after we are gone.
Have you ever braved the lonely road?
For we are here but a short time,
And the wind blows us all away.
Have you ever braved the lonely road
And found your true way?
Have you ever sung your own song?
For we are here but a short time,
And the wind blows us all away.
Have you ever sung your own song
And found your true way?
Have you ever loved?
For we are here but a short time,
And the wind blows us all away.
Have you ever loved
And found your true way?
Making my way slowly, arduously, and meticulously through the Odes of Horace and Shakespeare’s Sonnets. Not for the faint of heart.
Alone.
No one else now…
Not for years.
An empty corridor leading to
Another empty corridor…
And another.
Alone.
There is no one else now.
But there is unbounded freedom,
And the world beckons.
Alone.
There is no one else now.
Will I succumb
Or take flight?
Morning stroll.
Crossing a bridge over a busy highway.
Below, cars jockey for position.
At high speed, they dart in and out,
Passing one another,
Frantic to get somewhere quickly,
No matter the risk.
I walk on.
Every forty yards or so, I hear the next birdsong…
Each repetitive, but musical and unique, and therefore beguiling.
Relentless, they call out for a mate every morning.
They are so determined,
And will not be denied this.
Now in my 70s, I am in no hurry to get anywhere.
Nor do I need to mate.
What’s left?
Musing from quiet observations.
How alone I am.
No one else now.
Hasn’t been for a while.
Isolation…an empty corridor leading to but another empty corridor.
How alone I am.
No one else now.
But there is unbounded freedom, too,
And the world beckons, an open invitation.
How alone I am.
No one else now.
But will I succumb
Or will I explore?
Steps to the back door…
Not even a fleck of paint remains…
Wood worn and frayed at the edges.
Years and years of faithful support.
Always there to help you inside,
While dismissing the harshest weather.
They still bear up, uncomplaining, under heavy weight,
But greet you happily in the morning,
And wave a soulful goodnight in the evening.
Henry's Views 