The Ancient Reflects

Posted on Updated on

In my age, now, as I smother somehow
The more-than-feeling conviction that I am done,
— Drained, dilapidated and withered –,
In distant soft-floating butterfly wing
Cutting across my vision, to pass, you’ve come

And stay you will not, but in your own impetus,
Slide soothingly, like across a touchscreen;
With your finger touching-caressing my chin-jaw line,
As touched from across a polythene veil;
And to touch I pale not much; lest I’d fail.

I know now, then, why the power of youth
— Its spirit to ignite life, its
Ceaseless spark of energy — is deemed to be controlled
By aging crones, way past their age. In youth is such
All redefining fire with which the ones been could not manage.


2012-09-23

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s