Unravelling II

The clouds are glowering at me:
thou shalt not garden today,
and the wind agrees:  I am
still here and I hold sway.

My body is loath
and my ankle makes me lame.
My head is sore:  just up
there is no flame.

Australia would be warm
causing human warmth too.
Here all is frosty, people
turn away, little friendliness
in this place of backs and privacy.

I am wrapped in my silence
like a cool blanket, surveying
the ruin of the road.  I would
need resources for another such
trip, and road trips
are for the young:  starting out
is different from
being done.

What does one need in life?
A roof, enough resource for
food and heat, perhaps a
person to spend time with,
and a task to do.

Beyond ego, wealth and fame,
(that takes you further from
what's true), there is
nothing, nothing worth
the time.  Many people

are deluded all their lives
and die in ignorance
of all they missed.  There
is no map with arrows
and caution that could help.

We create everything we
do not know, and at the end
there is only you

in a day of silence, wind
and trees, glowering clouds
and thoughts and words.  A life
wound round and round, unravelling, free.

One Year Round The Sun
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