I am slowly beginning to age,
a sort of catching up
where my youth did seem resilient
to a process of slowing down.
And yet am I ready
would be the question we might all wish
to find some distant resolution.
See the life of the average man,
always pining for more,
or perhaps never in a hurry
to help define their meaning.
I have a wonder in my life
a spirit being whose truth I rather
thrive upon to be near,
to every sunrise lets a setting moon.
If once I might have known peace
to feel in every fiber of my being,
would then I have found any relief,
to accommodate the peril of my mind.
Some might suggest the deepest chasm
of our psyche
is found a natural path to exile,
yet further away would be such a loss.
So words do land upon a state of mind,
a rational being might suggest
to remain a fixture in their silent time.
I wonder about now in my forever quest
to know only ahead the hours before.
© Thom Amundsen 3/2021