Fifty Eight

Today I did not go to exercise
But tomorrow
Oh yes, but tomorrow
Whatever reason then
Whatever lack of self-love then

May I feel the sources
Of love, of joy within myself
Yes, I raised these words internally
I thought on, of the sources
I smiled with love, with joy

May I recognise then the sources
Of angst, of hurt within myself
Yes, I followed those words mindfully
I thought on, of the sources
I becalmed my angst, my hurt

Of those two imposters
I treat them both the same
For what I love also gives hurt
For what is angst that it also gives joy

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Fifty Seven

I won’t go to watch the sunset
I did that once before
I won’t visit the hundred-acre wood
Nor find out the latest score

I will write, I will sleep
I will sleep, I will be
I will read, I will write
I will shape up as if to keep

I did sleep, I did wake
I did dream, I did wake
I did sleep, I did wake
I did dream, it was no mistake

The light is here early
The light is here strong
I don’t know what the dreams mean
Yet they were clear, they did belong

I did write of the young man
Alone on the train
I did write of his young love
Together again, still the same

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Fifty Six

I question myself because
I question myself, because
I have doubts, because
Why else am I here, why do I

Feel uneasy; not yet welcome
In myself, not in my body, not
In my mind, not yet introduced
To my own new found freedoms

So, still it seems, I remain trapped
Why choose this place, of intense
Personal exhaustion, to follow
A path penetrated by my own

Illness, my own weakness
My own unachievable desires
My own, distinctly-indistinct deceptions
Where else could I be at this precious time

In my life, where to see the logic, the line
Where to find the sea, as I wonder how to be
Here now to find the love, to find a lover’s sign
Here to prosper, just beyond the base design

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Fifty Five

I am that young soul
Among the old soul
I am that full life
Among the half-life

I am that lover
Among the good love
I am here to rediscover
Among the undercover

I am that leaf in the fall
That leaf of a still silent call
I am that there thief in this here way
That thief for whom silence comes to pray

I am that white cloud
In the mostly blue sky shroud
I am that freedom found
That freedom to walk on solid ground

I am that paddler in the stream
The paddler with the lucid dream
I am that escapist from the seam
Escaping to where or when I seem

I am that certainty of moments
Certain in almost all of the moments
I am that old man growing older
I am that bright light, the one-time foot soldier

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Fifty Four

This room is not so sad
As that of the previous verses
The light here is clearer
The time here holds more truth than love

What I seek is of creation
Yet not yet turned to words
What I seek out is regeneration
Yet not from the stasis of the broken man

That I am here now does say
That the moon, the stars, the sun
The love, the lust; they have all conspired
To play their part in my growth

These grounds, these buildings
Now carry way less melancholy
They offer hope, they exude a brightness
A sure sign that the love of life belongs here

What I sought here before
May have been based on recrimination
Of myself, for at least from one other
I thought I deserved a detailed explanation

That I was here, does show
That I was in need of help
The generous words, the actions, the people
They all played their incredibly supportive part

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