I do not wish to shave 30 years off my age, nor my physical body. However, if I could just rewind my brain three decades; that would be the wish of a lifetime. My mind has limitations. The knowledge it contains is puny. I read. I engage in stimulating conversation. I put learning to the test each day. I want to devour every magazine, blog and article. Much of what enters into that sacred space leaves before it can assimilate or gather dust.
Each morning we rise and quickly make the bed, tidy-up the half-read newspapers. We close the closets, the underwear drawer, and door on the medicine cabinet. The kitchen sink is filled with the befores, durings and afters. The desk is piled with stacks of post-it notes, to-do lists, a variety of pens and pencils, and junk mail. These are the objects of disorder. As the sun sets, we check the locks, turn off the lights.
On the edge of my sixth decade, I fear leaping to seventy. How terribly strange to be 69. I must be older than all of those with whom I serve. Will I walk toward the great invisibility? Am I stepping toward the edge of uselessness? Will I be alone with my unread poetry? What will greet me on the other side? The dances the demons romances the pain.
forever they fall rivers of tears facing the fears civilization destroyed by lies that decayed.
It's My Passion! 