As I get older

As I get older

Everything moves further away,

Perhaps if I sit for long enough

Things will come around again.

Am I to be a sage who waits

With a look of perpetually

Glazed amazement

How much will be left unsaid?

Too many people waste time in expectation

Of a miracle

Sitting on a wall

Drinking to forget what was worth

Remembering.

Fretting over the tilt of the hill

Which seems to get steeper

The potholes deeper.

Old rags,

Hanging from street lamps

That was once bunting,

Which should have come down

After the coronation,

Are like the loose bandages

Of Egyptian Mummies.

Black and white movies

Are full of stereotypes

Should we never see them again

It will be a great loss

For some,

No hardship to others.

There is a lack of recognition

In a blank stare

And still, we expect understanding.

When age is withering

Knowledge is not exempt,

The gathering far from efficient

And the Sphynx still sits

Or does it crouch?

Confusion is a natural state

The stillness of a morning

The quiet of the night

A feeling of incompleteness.

Wrapped up in a comfort blanket.

Stories

Told around campfires

When the weariness of a day

Allows

For easy access,

To the detriment of reason.

And the myth of wisdom,

Is borne on the wind,

Lifted in the sparks from a fire.

Scintillas of truth,

Spirited out into the cosmos

To be unveiled as universal

In the days that follow.

As I get older

There is less order to the chaos

And wisdom is a phase

That may not linger

Much like an ice cream van

On an empty street

It can just pass on by

Leaving nothing behind

But the tinkle of its irritating music

Or in some distant places,

The toll of the bell.