WHAT IS IT?

WHAT IS IT that we should reach an age when we are set in our ways, and life comes to a stop and we are at a standstill?

WHAT IS IT that we stop seeking, that we give up our dream of becoming and assume that we are, and paralysis sets in? What is it that we have allowed ourselves to accept in place of life’s most exhilarating moment, that makes us older than age, older than old, older than time?

WHAT IS IT that we failed to recognize in ourselves, that fell asleep and lies dormant at the bottom of our being yet manifests in our subconscious and in our dreams, and before we know it . . . it’s over?

It’s over and we no longer have the strength to regain control of our lives, and we no longer have the courage to redirect our ship, and we are gripped by fear and suffer from non-fulfillment, for we have never allowed ourselves to be, and to be what we COULD be. And something inside tells us we know it, and there is this heavy feeling of frustration in our gut, and we translate it sexually and blame it on our mate, and rap about it to our friends, and before we know it . . . IT'S OVER!

It’s over and we no longer have the strength to think about it, and we no longer have the courage to face our barren tree, and we crave for sympathy and understanding, and worry about our arthritis and our creeping ulcer, and before we know it . . . IT’S OVER!

It’s over and they stand over us and look into our grave so deep and dark and empty, and mourn the passing of the one who never looked out of the window of a train, and eulogize the one who only touched the hem of the garment, and praise the life of the one who did nothing more than endure.

WHAT IS IT? Tell me what is it? Show me where is it? That I may confront it. That I may swat it like a fly. That I may slay it like a dragon. Windmills of life . . . stop laughing at me!

Jay Frankston
Little River, CA 95456
wlp@mcn.org