The story of life.
The tide of time takes the spark of life,
along a path to the unforseeable future.
It carries all towards the destined end.
Yet the paths, the journeys taken are unique.
Through our journey we see, we love, we imagine.
The route we take is partly decided by inputs.
Choices and decisions of a million other beings,
most of whom we don’t know and will never know.
As the tide reaches its ebb we reflect, look back.
To warmth, to our youth, to fun and laughter.
To a myriad of events and small adventures.
We see joy, love, sadness in our of our journey.
Remember those we love, and have loved.
Our kin our friends. Our partners through life,
The children and grandchildren of our union.
and we say “how I love you. Love you all.”
Journeys through memories are partly stored,
Some half forgotten, others still bright and clear.
An enemy known as Parkinson’s enters lives.
We have no warning, no notion of his intent.
Now there is another life battle to fight.
An enemy to test our will, our endeavour.
We search for help, from family from friends.
Experts, professionals suggest a way a path.
With hope and naivety we follow their guidelines.
Then sit and ponder, on what life is meant to be.
Yet can’t fathom why we are a conscious entities.
Who have the power to reason and to wonder why.
Then have it snatched cruelly away from us
It makes no sense to us, then why should it?
We look for others, people who share the disease.
In old age experiences and adventures of the imagination,
Stir in our hearts. Others do come into our lives,
Give us some hope, some fragmented joy and pleasure.
Take us to new flights of imagination and desire.
We feel the embryos of things that could have been.
Share the emotions, imagine sweet moments.
For love obeys no rules. To be shy and naive once more.
Golden chances fleetingly shimmer and glow.
But words won’t emerge readily, nor should they.
For it is right that some things are best left unsaid.
A feeing of spring in the depth of winter. Is a joy.