Old Man

— a poem

A man ripe and old, with eyes fierce and bold,

White robes, white hair and tall;

Was nimbly treading the ground,

Had he no one to hear and call.

He was white in and out, no fear had he no doubt,

I called him aloud, entreating kindly

Pleading him to allow me,

To follow him, as I wished to blindly

Broad was he bare chested, as a brown falcon crested,

Astonishing, amorous, ferocious to sight

He said he was a master of speed and pace

And I knew I could match up his white.

Death, destruction; creation and construction,

What a flight we had hand in hand!

Speeding up, around, sides and down,

As if, we were some cosmic band.

He took me here and there, showed fair and unfair,

We traversed the depth and scaled the heights

The land, surface, ocean and sea,

With him around, I had pure day and night.

Sea of fire, killed the desire,

Waters touching sky and clouds running low

Fishes flying, while birds swimming,

Was this an illusion or was this so?

Free flowing in air, like thread bare,

Tying loose ends was not a consideration

I stop it there and leave it where?

A sign of creation and annihilation

I open my eyes and to my surprise,

That I sensed and saw some or none

Standing still, calm with a strong awill,

I had everything and nothing to shun.