As Time Goes On

As time goes on things change, we change,
     And others change as well,
          Which leaves us with these points of parting –
               Roads that ‘separate for us in summer woods’;
                    We see our drift from anchors of our past,
                         Those many friends with whom we've walked a night or two.

Mankind has always walked the roads and paths he's made,
     Then built and walked some more,
          Far from the lives of self and others we have known,
               Into new worlds and lives far different from our past.

I now recall the first I'd known who moved
     So far away we'd likely never meet again;
          She tought with me, yet to Australia
              Went – for better life I guess.
                   We were not close, perhaps
                        Would never see her likes again –
                              Yet comfort there
                                   That she was near –
                                         She, half way to the
                                              Generation up ahead,
                                                   Who let me into
                                                        Adult life – she
                                                             Was the first when
                                                                  Others would
                                                                       Not let me in.

These marvels of our roads, and wires, and beams
     Of message-bearing light and sound
          Appear to be improvements to our lives,
               Yet all the while our journeys
                     Split, and face-to-face we
                          Meet not once again.

I've done it too, I guess,
     As life has tumbled forward in its ways;
          So few of friendships thus surviving
               As we roll and tumble forward
                     Into life.

So, friendship gets to be a choice,
     Within this brave new world of our
           Diverging paths –

A choice to stay together in this sprawling land,
     Stripped of its friendly people,
          Where past friends reduce to bits of functionality;
               And life stops being possible
                   As incomes fix and fall
                        Confining us to cells
                            Within those storage-homes
                                 Awaiting death.

 

Then, when we can no longer hold our end
     Of friendship high, through illness or old age;
          And most of all our friends have passed away;
               And newer people have their lives to live –
                   What then? – Just those we hire
                        To clean our bodies, feed
                             Thin gruel?
                                  Till we as well
                                      Move on and
                                           Free our beds
                                                For others coming up?

So here, for me, for us, this motley cohort
     Aging up – What then for us?
          Do we forestall the end? avert the drop?
               Thus save ourselves from dwindling
                    Quiet death?

Or enter in, perhaps, to life – self-giving to the
     Hearts that beat around us while we can?
          I think we do not know what's down
               The road for each of us,
                    Of good or ill
                         But journey onward
                               Quiet to our fate.

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