Monday, May 3, 2010

The Gray Child

Copyright 2010

To the aged go the spoils

those miracles of daily life accumulated

those riches laid down and taken up

stored for the day when

the day when

And life its weary journey plods

and bodies fail and thoughts fail

and nights grow long and short again

and pain of heart

and pain of mind

reside in docile, noisy state

And somewhere deep inside

still striving

a stubborn youth must be heard

amid the cacophonous clamor

of arthritis, myelitis, and actinic nuisance

still inside, somehow despite the years

in that solid, quiet place

that ageless, static place

wherein attends the soul

and resides the dew of hope

of purpose

amid the stuff of dreams

that refuse to die

And light the suffocating darkness breaks

and upward reaches

the essence of which

the real man is made.

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