I am in a world worthwhile, I walk in strides, kicking water and sand,
And after toast and tea and tales, I rest settled on a pillow, awake all the more,
All while the midnight takes gentle rest, I am awake. And starry eyed wonder, I dare,
If for one night only I could give name to all the stars in the sky.
And in golden afternoons, when the sun falls to dream, With all childhood joy I will taste cake and cream,
Reverse all promise of future to stay in a heartbeat of bliss.
Just for one childhood.
I do not think of it yet, I'm still awake, But the thought comes to me in my waking hour,
But in my mind, besides the sea. And in whispers, bitters, velvet,
A thought comes to me.
How do I bring direction to a short life?
How can my decision change the world?
I cannot fight it, I grow old!
Dare I ignore time and all of it?
Pretend I know not, but I have known them all along.
Dare I plant a pumpkin patch? Next to it, lavender, rosemary, thyme,
But still it clings wayward, that fleeting magnificence,
What would become of me if I tossed it away?
Pursuing my passions, Unhappy! They insist.
Unhappy! Unhappy! Unhappy!
I am not there anymore, I am walking along a beach,
Contemplating Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Vincent's starry night.
I do not know whether I am young or old.
If I am young, where is the scrape of my palms?
Where is the dirt beneath my fingernails?
A marvelous wonder once played in my mind, at times imagination, And other times naivety.
Should I chase the birds along the sand? Try and catch them and feed them crab shells,
Or should I cry when I catch a fish?
I do not think anyone understands, anyone at all.
If I am old, then, should I walk barefoot in the sand?
Wear a hat on my head to shield my withering face?
Should I walk slow along the sand?
Fragile, with thinning hair bustling in the wind?
There will be a time when the sun sets over the waves, Golden sea foam crashing against the shore.
And I will stop chasing the seagulls, I will stop whispering to the starfish,
I will sit and watch, spitting pits from stone fruit under the crevices of the waves.
If I am growing old, I will close my eyes, alone when hear the ocean voices sing, and lull when I drown.
I walked along a beach once, somewhere far away. I dare not return, indulge in the simply beauty of it all.
I do not thing anyone understands, anyone at all.