In Wilderness Years

the abject sparseness
abounds
astounds
the graying years

beset with the drying
of the waters
of the mind
the withering
of ideals and hopes
dreams and goals

to become
a desert
scrub brush
and forest
dwarfed
to dust and ashes
the aspirations of youth
lost
to these wilderness years

life culminates
in a different place
from the one
seen in childhood’s
sumptuous plate
the feast
of wild ambition

now to salvage a tree
a flower
the bloom of spring
from the burning ravages
of this desert wind! how
ambition then would ring!
like frost on a morning
in the spring!

but what shall I salvage?
a year?
perhaps the remnants
of a life’s illusion?

by what means? irrigation?
a stream to water
the constant thirst
of old age’s sad unrelent
that withers the soul
as there it went
to topple like trees
watered
by a scorching stream?

what garden
has ever
blossomed so
or don’t you know
that drought
is still possible
in a land
watered
from
down below?

my spirit
has wasted
away
just so
I gladly give it back
from whence it came
for in the dirt
it will wind its way
back
to a time before
these wilderness years

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