The Summer of my Years

As I approach the summer of my years
The hoary voice of winter howls my name.
“What was and is, anon shall be at hand—
‘Tis time ye relent; good cannot prevail!
Men of stature greater than thee have tried
And failed. Corrupted men shall forever
Herd men less so, who trusting that their gods
Will set them free happily serve their time.
Revolution turns the soil but the weeds
That choke men’s hearts shall once again emerge.”
Who am I to face this chilling mistral,
To dare to dream of not just one but all
Restored to former glory? No longer
Souls carrying corpses but souls set free,
Magnified in the flesh through hearts and minds
Yielded in fact and in deed to reason.
I see men of my age giving up hope,
Balancing common good with selfish gain.
I hear footsteps of those younger, stronger
Leaving their mark on time’s shifting sands—
Budding enthusiasm not yet crushed.
I feel the strained hearts of those more timeworn
Beating defiantly, marking the path
Which leads to victory. What shall I do
Standing at this crossroad ‘tween life and death?
Shall I relent to the vacuous truth?
Or shall I press on, and lean into love,
That I may be warmed by its flame, set alight
To live and love and serve until I die?

6 thoughts on “The Summer of my Years

  • It is because of ones like you who have come periodically to this world, that the human race has advanced at all. Each teacher having brought their own special light, reminding men to look at the path their heart has chosen. Humankind has struggled constantly against the commonness of their societies down through the ages with too little thought. And it is only when those who hold great wisdom appear among us, that a shift can take place. That for a time the eyes and the hearts of humanity might be opened. Remembering that it is known, that there will always be some who shall hear and change.

  • Your words stir my heart to answer with a resounding, press on. I believe the tipping point has passed, yet the unbelievable forgiveness, together with the astounding power of the Omnipotent, has a plan to restore what still can be. I think the one thing eternally resting with the hearts, minds and hands of mankind is to meet his power, on Earth, with the same fervency. Your blog has consistently encouraged me with the proof that there have been in the past, and continues to be those, who steadily provide the personal mettle to complete this work. Thank you for yet another declaration of dedication to this purpose.

  • These are the questions that only in quiet can be heard. The plight of man is encased in these questions, and I believe everyone is asked them and by choices made, everyone answers them. I, for one, know I must consistently yield to the greater good if I am to keep my wits about me, for what compels me forward, to live, is not the desire for personal gain but to live a life true, whole, upright in all ways, contributing to the mending of the world’s broken pieces. That is my conscience.
    I, too, find myself in a similar season, and I feel there is is still yet so much to accomplish, and will I have the time and energy to get things done? If I can still dream and my heart lights up when I do, then I know I’ve still got it in me. I do pray, every day, that I will never forget. It’s tough, for I know the conflicting whims of the world steers one to forget, but I know for me there is no lasting peace in my own heart unless I remember what things should be like in essence.
    Enjoyed the poem!

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