The skin and hair have thinned,
the muscles have shrunk and weakened,
the carriage is bent.
The energy that once animated the body
and shined out through the eyes is dimmed.
The attention to balance has moved
from casual observation to critical consciousness.
The slow, pitiful and persistent deterioration
into helpless frailty
seems to rush on
seeking release on the other side.
What is unperceived by an observer
is a new life at times developing
in the old creaking carcass,
if one is blessed/lucky,
take your pick.
The new life developing
of which a glimpse is given
on unpredictable occasions
is so rich and calm
so superior to the old
“pursuit of happiness” game
which is moving the ball down the field
against many and varied obstacles
towards
but wait, there is no goal line!
But having been conditioned,
we don’t know what else to do.
The clamor is too great.
What is growing in the ancient rubble
of which one gets a peek once in a while
is a new and fresh interior life of
calm, peaceful, unhurried observation
of the facts that tell of a weakening
of physical and mental ability.
Developing in this near compost
is a new sense of time and occasionally,
even space slowly overlapping
the old system,building bit by bit,
but not in a straight line, a mystical
alter world.
A world beautifully colored with people and places,
a place vivid with smells and sometimes sounds
a kaleidoscope-like visual of the world I have known and know.
Or perhaps, better described as wondrous, beautiful fabric
of intricate colorful threads woven together
in a continuous changing development
but at the same time complete.
It is a sort of prayer rug which invites me to kneel
in joy and to try to express my gratitude for all the loves
I know and have known, the people, places and sentient beings,
past and present which make up the cloth and dyes
of this exquisite carpet which is somehow me or my life.
A wondrous, mysterious gift from the God of my understanding.
