Recollecting the Myth of Me

This post I dedicate to a person who reads my blog consistently.

Today he turns 88, and here is the post where he was introduced to my poetry and blog back in May 2015. Celebrating a father figure, mentor and a man who has lived his life fully, and interesting stories to share.

The Myth of Me

It was several lifetimes ago
Or perhaps it was just yesterday
Time is unreal, flighty
You would be forgiven
For thinking she was floating
But the cloud was in her mind
Too many directions
Not a single destination
Still she kept walking
Seemed like in circles
But at no time she resisted
Her natural instinct to move
Though everywhere
Looked like nowhere
And at no time was there a reason
But onward and even backward
Almost blindly, hesitatingly

And then several lifetimes ago
Or was it yesterday
She drifted through a doorway
Decked with marigold garlands
And strings of pearls
As though she was expected
Even if a little late

She was never deficient in imagination
And this room offered words
That melted, rhythm that lulled
Languages that danced on her tongue
Poets and mystics smile knowingly
Music flowed from her fingertips
And instead of looking upwards
She began to look inwards
A gratefulness that
She never stopped walking


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