No Other Greatness
I’m getting older, which means I need to get over vanity and the insanity of impulses. I need to move from the blind side of sought and the wrong side of is to ought. I’m on a journey out of the naivete of youth into the youth of my old age. But wonder resides and spills from the cloven seasons of my heart, even as I laugh, life moves in for the kill.
What was the future is beyond my furrowed brow, but somehow, brightness shines in the valleys between far away thrills, bridging the distance of that old resistance in an instance, to other hidden fields. The wonders of pain and stain, of sunshine and gain are all in the palm of my gazing mind, reshaping, improving thoughts that were blind or unkind. With a thought quick as a glance, smooth as a changing stance, leaping on the tip of icebergs galore, foundations of floating depth explored.
I’m not what I pretended, less than I intended and far less than I apprehended. There is grander I cannot grasp, a pleasant and powerful undercurrent to life parallels its misery, sensed only with my meager knack to detect wonder, I stand astride two destinies still, one good, one nil.
I believe Truth is more ancient than light and rolls out through the ephemeral world like waves with such force I crouch to the deck on my squeaky little life ship. There is more air than I can ever breathe more sun than I can ever soak up or see.
Think of no other riches than those of the heart. Life takes its toll but strive for no other greatness than that of soul.
you know, this I find fascinating for a couple of reasons. One, the truth of it resonates with me. I understand that second “coming of age” that happens after you’ve lived half your life. I wonder if I’ll have another one around sixty?
The other thing is how I’m drawn to the lyrical style of this post. I don’t usually enjoy lyrical prose. It usually feels pretentious at best–nauseating in general. I love classic poetry–not a fan of free verse and lyrical prose seems like free verse on steroids. This, however, proves it can not only be done but done well. I wonder if it should be left to men. Perhaps men have a better balance that keeps them from flopping over into sappy sentimentalism.
Regardless of the cause, I agree with you and enjoyed the discovery of it in this post.
Thanks for the comment. I’ve had this piece of work for a while, tweaking it now and then. I’ve over did it, then backed off too much. I think I’ve got it pretty close to how I had imagined it in the first place. Pass it around. Thanks again.