The Music of Youth

I hear the trilling crescendo of life’s sweet climax

Resounding! Echoing like deep bass drums in my soul

The titillating octaves of youthful exuberance have waned

The hushed quietness of death’s anticipated arrival

Now quieten my mind and caress my being.

Like a sedative balm soothing the achiness of life

What is there new under this relentless sun?

I am amazed that I still rise? Though thankful for my next breath

My zest for a new day is now sullenly tamed

Where is my bellow, where is my roar?

Where is the trumpeting triumph of victory?

Rehearsed schedules and routines calmly done

There seems to be no expedient goals to achieve

I have run my race! I have crossed the finish line

But I hear no accolades, no trumpet’s blare

No more adventures to be dreamed of

I now wax and wane, such a peaceful existence!

I now hear what appears to be heavenly choruses

Faintly calling me from what I can’t apprehend

I am on the cusp of a different kind of victory, an epiphany

Anticipation is of peaceful repose, the tomb, the eternal sigh

The jingling eagerness of life seems quailed

The exhilarating tempo now slowed

Old age has come too soon I fear

Where is the glorious death I pray?

Grappling with a foe, my life wagered

Life reveled intensely in one great gasp

A warrior is not meant to die so old

The glint in my eye is still there

The torch still burns fiercely in my soul

My righteous anger is still present

My arm is still strong to wield the sword

My sight has dimmed I fear to mark the arrow’s flight

No longer the leaping stag or the charging lion

My joints complain and my muscles ache

I gasp, age has rendered me poor of spirit

No longer can I soar with the eagles or dive into the blue depths

Nor climb the jagged tors

Never will I race again or leap like a lithe gazelle

I can still face the storm and shout at the tempest

I can stand in the fury and laugh at the devil

In the drenching rain and howling wind I am defiant

Glorying in God’s stupendous creation

My seed was strong and my lineage ensured

My progeny has taken root and prospered

I have lived and I am content

That which is me will survive the grave

I will return from whence I came and to that which sent me

I might hope that I will return one day as another

My soul ever blooming in eternal spring

Is the soul capable of improvement?

Do we ascend to higher and still higher planes?

What might my next incarnation be?

I am Life, I have existed, I am eternal, I encompass all of time!


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