Age gathers, colludes.

Cadences fade fitfully,

Seemingly before their time.

But there are echoes still,

Shapes we inherit,

We inhabit, we bequeath.

A life however bravely spent,

Will always be jagged, incomplete,

Never far away

From being enveloped in darkness.

Some may say,

Especially those who’ve known joy in life,

That this is not right.

I tell you clearly they are wrong.

So, just as a dancer

Might spin for you an exact pirouette

And release themselves in the perfect burst,

A lingering silhouette of energy,

Be content to love, to dazzle in the light,

If only for moments…

And then be gone,

With gladness in your heart,

Before the creeping shadows

Claim too much your sadness at leaving.


© Scott Hastie 2012. All rights reserved.


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