Not every man knows what he shall sing at the end,
Watching the pier as the ship sails away, or what it will seem like
When he’s held by the sea’s roar, motionless, there at the end,
Or what he shall hope for once it is clear that he’ll never go back.
When the time has passed to prune the rose or caress the cat,
When the sunset torching the lawn and the full moon icing it down
No longer appear, not every man knows what he’ll discover instead.
When the weight of the past leans against nothing, and the sky
Is no more than remembered light, and the stories of cirrus
And cumulus come to a close, and all the birds are suspended in flight,
Not every man knows what is waiting for him, or what he shall sing
When the ship he is on slips into darkness, there at the end.
Uncertainty! Is that something to be certain about? Watching the pier vs being out on the see? "When time has passed," which reminds me to make time while we be!
ReplyDeleteThis poem makes me think a lot more about living. Once again, I find myself with decisions to make about how I live and how I make a living. I don't even know what I want to sing to be able to pay the future bills to come. The sea sounds a lot better to me!