A Restless Soul

A Restless Soul

To tread the path beneath

A restless soul upon this earth

Searching, listening ever alert

To find new vistas and thoughts

The four walls a cage that consumes

The fire within

Designed to burn in ecstasy

At the magnificence of this world

No fire breaks of deadening routine

To block this furnace of the soul

The wind whipping it along

Seeking fresh fuel to speed its progress

Never content to be indoors

A captive of the box

We gild, decorate and own

Not realising all this, owns us

There is a hunger here

That is not about possessions

To have, to lose, to gloat

The void cannot be filled

No trinket, no clothes or food or drink

No designer palace, or wide screen TV

No youtube video or TV series or person

Can fill the cavity, rotting within

You heart longs for a the pad of feet

Outside beating a age old rhythm

Of fresh air against skin

The reassuring resistance of the ground

Soon we will rest beneath this soil

Time for stillness, when encased

In our wooden armour

Riveted in place

our meagre portion of time gone

To act, a call to arms
to implement change, a hope of life
so I pound these pavements
searching progress, fighting stagnation

Some moments you die for
a glimpse of the beauty without
resonating with the longing within
filling that space with aching joy

In the fog of change, you kind of lose stuff

When did it become so tricky to be a parent?

Somewhere after they hit adolescence

But before they gain independence

There’s a rough, rough patch

When they do all the wrong things

When you react in all the wrong ways

In the fog of change, you kind of lose stuff

Lose sight of how much they mean to you

Because you are so scared of all that’s out there

You question your parenting performance big time

Almost as much as your offspring do, but not quite

Bewildered at the pace of change you see in them

Blinded by a life time of holding this responsibility

Reluctant to let go of this precious trust

Shaken by their demands for freedom

But knowing that you have no choice to hold on

When does it become tricky to be a parent?

When they no longer need you to be around

But want you to see, they are transforming

And to embrace with joy what they have become.

An Alternative Script

I tend to fill small notebooks with my scribbling and obviously had reached the very last page of one such book when I penned the following.

 

An Alternative Script

Reaching the end of this book

into which I have poured myself

sometimes rancid with sorrow

rarely radiant with joy

but always thankful for life

Perhaps to know each day

is really a fresh page of a new book

is the way to look at things

A chance to write a different hand

an alternative script

with a better ending

So on this the last

I want to remember and look forward to

all the stories in my life unwritten

that lie ahead just awaiting discovery

The triumphs the deeds

that I can hug to myself

as life on this plain wanes away

The friendships that I thank God for now

and the ones just around the corner for me to meet

And of all the sorrows and challenges

please give me strength for this too

So I won't buckle at the knees

and find my spirit cracked

I don't want to be a horse

carefully broken down to accept

the bridle and bit of life

I'd rather be a rough mare roaming

free on the plains

Discovering all that life offers

finding beauty in the landscape within and without

Unfettered, unsullied, unbroken

and if my feelings get worn

and a bit abused

I'd much rather that, than be iron clad

with the blacksmith's metal

and not feel the rough from the smooth at all

Let the hard surface of all

that I explore and meet

wear my hooves naturally

For a book unopened is protected forever

but what a wasted opportunity

Better thumbed and read, written and turned

than pristine and untouched.