In Wilderness Years

the abject sparseness
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
to dust and ashes
the aspirations of youth
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
by a scorching stream?

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

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


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