I thought about them;
the words you spoke
before you left,
and I
realize now,
that I never understood them.
Some,
might have been the ramblings
of an old man,
trying to piece together
a view of the world that made some sense,
through the stained and cracked visage
of a battered psyche.
Others,
seem now to hold the feel
of deep,
and textured wisdom,
handed down
from stories told.
Of books inscribed
by candlelight
in the darkness.
Deep truths,
the kind that bind the world.
I heard you,
when you spoke;
obviously,
or there would be nothing
to reflect on.
Yet, I had not yet faced
my own fear
and my own trials,
so my purchase
beheld a view
far too pristine
to perceive the nuance.
I didn’t know,
and so,
I didn’t understand.
Life had not yet
handed me victories
and then turned their sweet taste
to ashes,
with a single blow.
I did not yet know enough
to understand the fear,
that comes with having one’s
perceptions of the world
shattered
with the march of time.
It is no wonder
you struggled so,
with distilling all that experience
down into words
that you could speak.
Now,
I too,
face the terror of finality.
My vision becomes occluded,
and with each day that passes,
I understand more and more,
the curse of knowledge.
HG – 2019
A deep and touching subject!