An Old Man Ponders


An ancient warrior recalls a life too quickly gone by

Ruminations stir in the reflection pool of his mind’s eye

Old age has overtaken him quietly and unannounced

He is keenly aware of what the psalmist pronounced

“What man is he that liveth and shall not see death?

Can he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?”

Where is the glorious death he forlornly pleas?

Why must he die on some shameful sickbed he grieves?

The fire is still there, reflected in the glint of his eye

The raging furnace still smolders in the cast of the die

The shadows gather! Where is that shinning ray?

That will illuminate that dark valley and ominous fade

I abide the time in an aura of ethereal light

Awaiting the certainty of my preordained plight

This transient life is but a synapse in a timeless sea

A connection between what was and what will be

The incubus awaits with its harrowing thirst

I am the warrior and will face mankind’s certain curse

For in this twilight I see that dark forest

With its shadowy forms and trebling chorus

For there is a path in there tried and true

That is used by all who doth pass there anew

Often well-traveled and oft well used

To cross that frightful ground, to gain a better view