What is there to say when all the love has slipped away in half a minute
There is always something we can blame but in the end it's just the same
Suddenly you find yourself alone
What is there to say when every dream just fades away in half a minute...
Tomorrow I turn 44 but what is there to say except the obvious - that I am grateful for life. Granted, my actions of late belie the notion, I suppose, for in truth, there is much for me to ponder about the present me I have become. There is no kindness to my thoughts on this account - only honesty.
Two days ago I chanced on an ancient blog of mine and in a rare show of apparent interest read through my past ruminations (a pained cringe, a bleeding wince for incredulously boring writing). Journals do what they ought. Laced in teetering verbosity, they reveal a tactless truth to the workings within and the evolution of being. Word naked. Page after page was the unraveling of a person who played on a cycle of moods: ecstatic, melancholic, bubbly, downcast, confused, enlightened, hopeful, resentful, encouraging and deflating. For a moment it was laughable, a woman child painfully peering through the world via pink rimmed spectacles.
Glued to the comedic display was a saving grace to it all for I found part and parcel courage to be quite genuinely happy in between. It takes courage to be happy. In that aspect I pay respectful salute to the me of the past and ardently wish a moiety of her strength sans naivete would pulse in the present.
For life is lonely; I am not first to espouse; minstrels, bards, saints and transgressors had so. Why on earth do we strive to achieve? To earn? To gather together? To entreat a sublime being? Even to celebrate? Is it not, in all propriety to chastise this insipid feel of isolation? We are all each of us a planet of our own. Yet even planets conspire to align.
Often it is surmised that at the age of 40, a woman has - arrived. Arrived where? Four years past prime and yes, I get it, and no I don't. That's the whole truth of it.
Perhaps tomorrow I shall think differently.There is still tomorrow. That tomorrow when I turn 44.