Pitted
Patinaed
Oh
The many beauties
Of ageing
Oh
The many beauties
Of ageing
No need for
Destination
No need
To have a plan
Not yet
But scan
Horizons
For potential
For places I’d like
To get
And I
Delight in the roar
Of rushing water
Coursing over stone
For a moment
At least
As content
To view the scene
As to be in it
Resist
And be dashed against
The rocks
Let go
Allow the chaos
To coalesce
I rejoin
Resolving flow
Into the known
I hold on tight
This tiny raft
Upon the raucous
Seething froth
Ride the fury
Through the pass
All the while
Seek inward poise
For only then
Will ire abate
The rapid’s run
Is fueled by hate
While narrow walls
Are blinders worn
To keep my mind
In raging state
We battle through it
We quell the uproar
We resolve the confusion
We overcome
And it feels good
Even in the midst
Of the worst of times
These are the best of times
So I wonder how it is
We fail to acknowledge
Just how much
We love a good war
We are a species
Of adrenaline junkies
Bent on our own destruction
Because it makes us feel alive