Pinnacle

It’s a trope, you know

The aging man with the bad mustache

Looking back at the height of life

Throwing pigskins to a cheering crowd

Just before the homecoming dance

I am he grasping back to a wild success

that failed

Failed to hold due to forces beyond my control

All the forces are beyond me

I like to think I am self determined

I like to think I have wherewithal

I like to think I can

Except on days I can’t

It’s too hard to dream anymore

Too hard to believe

Too hard to try

It’s too much sometimes

To even open up my eyes

It’s too difficult to see

Ambition runs right out of my veins

I am deflated

I am defeated

I haven’t heard the pistol

Nothing has begun

I can’t get to the starting line

I don’t really want to run

I amble back into the forest

To watch the sunshine through the leaves

I don’t want that to be the pinnacle

That can’t remain the top

Of all I have accomplished

I don’t really want to stop

My passions are more muted

The edges have been rounded

Smoothed down by time and tears

The fire burns more broadly

The fuel is hardwood not the soft

This flame is more longlasting

I still can reach the top

A slow climb

A steady step

Already I can feel the changes

A return of something wholesome

I make beauty every day

My gift is heart as much as skill

I don’t need to win a ribbon

I don’t want to be

Here I am still breathing

Love with every breath

I let the future do its thing

It does what it wants to anyway

I just do this thing before me

In that senseless, timeless way

Listening always to the heartcalls

That keep me going

Every day

brown and black cut away acoustic guitar
Photo by Jessica Lewis on Pexels.com

Ignited

I had put it behind me

Like banana seat bikes, and Weebles

Like high waisted jeans, and permed hair

Like grunge bands, and punk on a 7-inch

Set those dreams aside in the bin of what’s not possible

Romance and passion is for the young, I demurred

Give me quiet conversations over coffee

I will settle for just the shoulder bumping, sidewalk shuffling

Twilight walks in cultivated gardens

I would have settled

There is no shame in end-of-years companionships

Growing quietly like herb gardens

Full of medicine and savory flavors

And you brought cayenne peppers

Exotic flowers

Flames and ginger beer

And my heart burst open

On fire

And this soul awakened to a deeper rhythm

A dance without end

Intertwined

The roses are burning

The roses are singing

The colors are full of sparks

The roses are my heart in your hands

And we will walk shoulder to shoulder

At twilight through garden paths

While the fires burn through time

Reducing to ashes the past

Reducing to ashes the future

And the passion of now

Ignites the earth aflame

With each syncopated step we take

In this dance

Together