MY LIFE SO FAR...or the vagabond takes his trip
The clichés of life are robust
and hearty in the mildew sweat,
festering from absentee portions
of my forgotten basement.
I have professed no goal,
as much as I have desired direction;
the former is never the shortest distance
between points ‘A’ and ‘B.’
To be taken seriously in due course,
I have cultivated a good sense of humor.
It has served me well.
For only after I laughed into this face,
did others recognize worth
in taking me seriously.
When carving my niche
in the forest of life
I did not immediately stab into the heart
of the nearest glistening pine
without first considering
how much sap would spill
from its sticky soul.
My road has been for reflection
- one third amiss
two thirds vision.
To reflect in hindsight
perhaps, was inevitable.
To dwell upon it
has been pointless.
In reflection, then, I now recall,
that my greatest despair came not
when the battle seemed bleakest,
only when I resigned hope
of rescheduling the rematch.
…and yet, my most profane self discovery
humbled; that at any given moment
never more certain than mere paces removed
was I from the person swinging naked on a maypole.
If spontaneity be that spice of life,
my common sense has been its advisable Benzedrine.
Conscience, my personal income tax –
for which never a moment existed
where calm judgment proved more a hindrance
than rash decision-making.
If only now,
I seem to present, dear friends
this magnanimous creature of foresight,
I recognize, as much for your vanities
as my humility
that it came,
blithe and decorous,
with more than ample regrets.
Emotion remains my tenderloin,
proverbial marbles lost at play.
In many ways masqueraded
as the part of an elegant fool,
taking time out for comedy;
the fool’s paradise,
when perhaps prudence might have
in order to preserve my forgotten face,
instructed to bring more Kleenex
to life’s party instead.
In this, I have at last redeemed my soul
so readily willing and pliable to be happy
that I deemed its simplest travel
the impossible dream.
and dare to peruse me no more.
I have nothing left to give.
for the road life travels
is only two directions –
the paths well trampled,
and those too late in the footprint
of each forgotten journey.
I speak of the awakening…
now, go to sleep.
@Nick Zegarac 2006 (all rights reserved).