Upon Turning 31,776 Days Old
I long to see the homestead,
The place where I was born.
I long to walk my childhood ways,
To see the flowers growing there
And breathe the forest air…
I do not know what drives this longing,
What brings this melancholy air,
But I think oft (and so often) now
Of all my yesterchildhood days,
And I miss the child’s free playful ways.
I feel some strange force is pulling,
And it’s hard to not obey.
–I know not what hidden force it is
–that drives me to this obsessing state……
Be it heaven or be in heal,
This cannot be the final bell.
I pray that I may carry on
In my own exotic way.
I pray the spirits are not calling,
I have so many reasons yet to stay.
But upon turning…
But Hark! I hear a life force calling,
And this call I must obey.
So I shall carry on for now
As if the finite were not there;
I shall make and follow plans
And live with spirit bare,
For life of course is for the living
And the living I will dare.
No more maudlin thoughts allowed,
No more bringing down,
Only building up and living on
With new vigour and with zest,
And if with gloom I’m ever pressed,
THAT will I put down.
I am resolved now. It’s not a bucket list,
Nor even is it just a dream,
It’s a plan, and to hell and damn
If anything will stop me now.
My mind’s made up and I will stop
At nothing, if only for her sake—
A promise made is a promise kept,
I will live, put paid to that living debt.
And for all the while in the past I slept,
The putting off is now put off
And I will fulfill my plan!
Now this part of life becomes the jam
Between the slices of my life.
Beat the drum and play the fife.
CREDIT: I, Padraic Ryan, Creative Commons
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ENJOY YOUR DAY.