Decaded
(By Gub, Jan 2010)
I span this seventh decade
With fifty-one years
To my name.
I feel I cheated at sports
Covering so much distance
With so little gain.
If the plaudits of critics
Alone
Count for value or fame.
I’ve married twice
Sired four children
In rude health
Dissolved a couple of fortunes
And had more than one moment of shame.
I sit between the houses
Of history, and chance
Fate is a fickle character
And God?
As mysterious as road signs in France.
Yet life’s abundance
of motions, so many to map
so little time to play every game.
With luck curiosity won’t drive us insane.
Maybe stillness grows
With movement
Rapidity slows
In our veins
Age is a kind
Of declension
Of meaning
That keeps trading
Names.
Blood will flow less freely
As each quest is better framed
The blessed remain fresh in their candour
The more fortunate wild and untamed
Learning is not the length of live, lived,
But the art of running the distance
With the prayer of forgetting
The price of joy is pain.
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