Thursday, October 21, 2010

Tomorrow Never Comes

Each day we look ahead seeing more tomorrows than we can count,

Some of them are ours, of course, and some are not, no doubt.

Every today was once tomorrow and every tomorrow was once today,

And in the end, no matter what, they’ll all be yesterday.

Each tomorrow arrives as today so there really is no chance,

For it to be tomorrow if we can never get there in advance.

Every day that’s ever been before the day we call today,

Is now a day called yesterday and it will always be that way.

No matter how we try to play it each morning as our feet hit the ground,

We can exclaim that it’s tomorrow, but it is to today that we’ll be bound.

So we can bait and switch, add and subtract, to try to change the sums,

But when you think of it in terms of time, tomorrow never comes.
L. S.


Wednesday, October 6, 2010

The Seasons of Our Lives

We are born in the ‘Spring’ of our lives; beginning from practically nothing. We grow

and stretch, and learn and change from helpless children to an adult form that will take
shape in the seasons to come. This is meant to be the time of innocence and education;
of soft rain and gentle winds. We are supposed to be nurtured and protected, encouraged
and connected to what life has to offer. For some the season ends too quickly and these
must grow up in a hurry. For others the storms come out of order and they must find
themselves before the troubled weather takes all the gifts of Spring away. Those who
make it through the rougher season battered but intact have gained strength to lean on,
but will always wish to visit Spring again. Some will in their everyday; others will let
this season pass and move on without a look behind. That gentle season’s influence gone
from them and missing forever. It is better that we should look for Spring each day.

The ‘Summer’ of our lives begins with adulthood of age if not of wisdom. It is our
longest season and the busiest of life. There is no one to lean on now but ourselves, and
toiling for our identity is challenged by the constant heat of very long days. The bulk
of our work in this life is suffered in its sometimes heated weather. The Summer holds
such promise though; our time to chose a path and forge an identity. We find love if
we are lucky and children come along; the seasons mixing. As always we try to rush
through this season, hoping for something better in the next without realizing that once
we pass from this vibrant time we won’t be invited back. It is indeed the time to sow our
seeds and to make hay, as it were. Some will hold on as long as they can, hoping for an
Indian Summer. But soon enough the children of the Spring and the young of Summer
will not speak their language anymore. If we are lucky they will listen and learn, and
perhaps benefit from that, but we can’t linger too long or we should not be prepared for
the coming of the Fall.

Alas the ‘Fall’. This most changing of seasons is like the Spring in reverse, maybe
designedly so. If we are lucky our work is behind us and we can enjoy the changing
leaves. One must hope this autumn of our lives affords us time to take advantage of
the cooler, shorter days. Travel should be welcomed and one should seek to have long
meals, good drink and spirited conversation. Sun sets should be treasured, and morning
walks. Time is of the essence, but don’t let them know. Be aware of he coming cold, but
don’t dwell on it. Make the most of each day and don’t hesitate to do so.

One day without much fane fare ‘Winter’ will arrive. For those of us who prepare for
it, we will have shelter from its storms. Books will be our friends as many friends will
have had their Winters pass. We will need to keep at doing something so that there is
something to keep doing. But in our quiet nights perhaps devoid of sleep we should
think so clearly back to the seasons that have passed; seeking peace and solace before we
finally sleep, the seasons of our lives complete.

Seasoned-cerely,
L.S.


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