“On the eve of my 61st, the days remaining
sharpened to a vanishing point, shrouded with mist.”
Time paddling along relentlessly, no quiet cove for refuge,
best spent slowly, pondering.
No time not to love the questions,
patient for answers.
No time now to intellectualize rationally
the facts of this or that (such stern bodies!)
seen rolling down
the frantic current of time’s river,
packed in barges of books, blogs.
No time left for the reciting of beliefs, opinions,
why things are and what we need,
for explaining, understanding.
No time now to remain self-made,
harnessed to the cow named Willful
heard bawling at each wrong turn,
for questioning each made decision.
Now! time cries, sharp as a snap, saying:
“This moment is for peering through faith’s curtain,
for being drenched in awe as a child
on its birthday, bumbling
with gratitude yet unexpressed.”
Time now to relinquish, to become disillusioned,
succumbing to the illogical, the unprovable,
making real the truth hidden for so long,
the coin’s other side.
Time now to awaken fully
into the awareness of surrender:
truth that glistens, stills.
A misty suggestion guiding our thoughts,
leading us toward ourselves.