Finding the Way

This poem came to me after my morning walk. Having recently taken a leap of faith, I meet people daily undergoing the same metamorphosis. Change is the best tool to meet the hidden self. Endless, I don’t know how to do that, moments arise. Self-doubt comes tot the party uninvited. It wants the fairy bread! Self-doubt is no match for Google.

sunset 1

Finding the Way

Something’s happening out there

Like a mass calling

Grey nomads continue to head north for the warmth

Middle aged folk are jumping ship

Where to?

Careers spanning 30 plus years are discarded

Like a heavy jumper on a warm spring day

It looks effortless slipping slowly onto the green crunchy grass

They appear unnaturally optimistic

Is it the pills or is it real?

Fleeing the bounds of normality and respectability

Making crazy choices, moving headlong into newly discovered interests

Was this the plan all along?

Not likely, life seemed so stable

Or whims carried on the breath of the late-summer of life’s story?

Peers admire their gumption, smiling sad encouragement

Children wonder about dementia

Middle age is everywhere

Joys and sorrows conflicting in their laps

They watch the sunsets with appreciation and the sunrises with gratitude

Uncertainty, the only form of knowing

Finding the way 

 

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