On this grey October morning,
Beethoven, rain, and a pen.
Nothing more is needed to bring contentment
To the cloistered world of the Old Hermit.
Peace follows solitude
On this grey October morning,
Beethoven, rain, and a pen.
Nothing more is needed to bring contentment
To the cloistered world of the Old Hermit.
The music slaps against my window pane
And my lawn browns in the autumn rain
And today is not my birthday.
Then Seers take these simultaneous events
And chant them into cause and effect
And each predicts an Apocalypse
And leads us, the Innocents, into his special Hell.
We live in curious times
Which seem different than the times before.
What I am saying is
We really do not know
Even though some claim to know.
So, can they explain why
The killing of untold numbers of people
Is the only suitable solution?
But first, can they explain the problem
Or even recognize the problem requiring this solution?
Perhaps the times are not so curious after all
Every once in a while,
I work to reinvent myself.
I am not displeased with me
but I do get bored.
So, I work to reinvent myself.
The clerk at the cash register
likes my new hat.
His back is bent by a load he no longer carries and will never carry again.
He was not without companions. Most stayed for a while then drifted away. The new appeared from time to time only to disappear (as they will).
He gathered mystic fables for direction and comfort but as they proved empty, he discarded them and moved on.
Always moving. On and on, immersed in the peace of his solitary journey.
She does not believe the door exists
even though I open it and
show her the other side
and she reluctantly passes through
but she knows she is on the outside
only because she is
and not because of the door
and she is certain she cannot come back in
because she does not believe the door exists.
There is nothing like old age to convince one
that present conditions are far superior
to anything the future is sure to offer.
Today finds another Spring
There have been so many
Winters too
Harsh Winters
The worst days are behind me
And only my End remains
But Today finds another Spring
Reluctant dawn
Lingering night time cool
Lurking autumn
A warm afternoon.
Two old men meet in passing.
They nod,
acknowledging each other’s existence.
They continue on.
Humanity recognized.