EULOGIES

EULOGIES


It's that time of life. The final countdown.
No, I'm not sad, depressed or despondent,
Simply aware. Aware that time is passing.
Simply stated, anything I write now  
 
And in the future, is a form of eulogy,
Saying goodbye, thanks for the dance,
The games we played. For the laughter,
The tears, the frantic grabbing for as much
 
As we could. Boom goes the kettle drum,
Full force the orchestra and massed choir.
I ain't dead yet. Just observing the patterns of life.
Autumn, winter, summer, spring (repeat).
 
Devoid of colour, my musings shall be?
Monotonous monotone pictures, faded into obscurity?
No sir, not me. I will be the god of fire (take your pick),
Choose a country, a continent, or a culture.
 
Feel my anger and rage; laugh at it, you might.
For that moment I will become alive, hog the spotlight,
Feel alive, one more memory, to be counted
One more obstacle to take on, be mounted,
 
One more adventure in the absurd; revel in its intricacy,
Its richness of texture; its lessons for humanity.
The god of fire? Yes, suitably dramatic? Suitably absurd?
[Music cue: the dancing Pandas?]
 
 
Leslie Bush
© 7 May 2021