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finally, i'm old
by Charlie Morgan
it took a buddhistic monk
to convince me old age
is a long sought-after
treasure, though an eye blink
during a camel's sandstorm.
sand pebbles of discomfort
proving to me that i exist
and searching for samsara
is a time looking for me;
when found it's another me.
karma whispers sylvia plath,
rumi, issa, thoreau and me.
as they trade skins by me
i see they are naked beneath.
i too, share in their reality.
i know them, they don't know me
and comfort is in ignorance;
as i waft and wane in desires
more basal than our human lust,
as much fear exists as tomorrow.
04/16/2008 Posted on 04/16/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ryan Nardi on 04/16/08 at 08:12 PM spectacular. the image and sound of the sandstorm sort of hung around as a background while i read the rest. you have a knack for sharing your perspective in such a unique and accessible way. always a pleasure. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 04/21/08 at 03:37 PM It is a process that none escapes - birth, disease, old age and death. And old is simply a relative term for the body we find our souls in at a certain point. Every body fails, eventually. The skin falls, the eyes grow dim, our digestion fires slow...we no longer attract those whose baser desires of procreation reign. *sigh* But I have to say, you are one fine human being, and lovely. P.S. I LOVE Rumi. |
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