AFTER THE RUSH

I see there are no more dreams,
No more schemes to fail,
No maiden voyages to take.
I see someone else’s seas.
I am no longer
Fit and well to sail.
I wonder whether those days
Of grand ventures
And unfounded hope were ever real.
They seem part of senseless mythology -
Those days when I was strong
And trained to tackle before benches;
When I was new and made of steel,
Blind to the bleak and slippery slope
That waited beyond the wrong.

Spring blossoms blossom

Before blanching in summer,
Then winter will come.

I climbed a mountain
To find it offered a view
Of less than nothing.

Life insured is a truly a worthless thing
Once value dead exceeds merit alive.