Betwixt and Between

By John Herlihy (Sunday 18/2/18)

I often find myself just stuck there in between,

Between the reality and what things may seem.

In infancy, I suckled urgently at mother’s breast,

As I awaited my future to unfold at God’s behest.

As a child, I nibbled penny candy but wanted more,

There in between, wondering what life had in store.

In puberty, my body began to grow at a fever pitch,

Leaving me left to wonder about this newfound itch.

As a young adult, the past was quickly left behind,

The future loomed before me, a cave to be mined.

Life’s stages seemed to lie just betwixt and between

They each have a brief moment to shine and gleam

Not a moment goes by not subject to some change,

Life’s ups and downs seem like a vast interchange.

The glory of childhood separates infancy and puberty,

While puberty lies between innocence and maturity.

Poor old maturity lies between youth and old age,

Wildness of youth gone without wisdom of a sage.

Never to have loved and never a thing to be missed,

Never to have seen a rainbow and never been kissed.

Never to find all those things that people have lost,

Never to achieve happiness but briefly and at cost.

Some of our friends happier, while others are sad,

I still often wonder about the true meaning of glad.

The dawn light casts long shadows on meadows

The light of the noon meridian casts no shadows

The twilight drinks in little sips the lingering light

As darkness drinks deep drafts of the coming night

All the seasons have their own mystery to bestow,

Winter as a case in point brags of peaceful snow.

But winter lies anxiously between fall and spring,

Overwhelmed by the joys the new seasons bring.

Think of glorious autumn’s premonition of winter,

Fallen leaves prelude to the feel of winter’s splinter.

Between crests and troughs of the wave’s intention,

The watery surge is held reverently in suspension.

Between the peaks and valleys of the mountain,

Lies the verdant forest spread out like a fountain.

Some people become rich, others remain poor,

I still stand quietly on the threshold of life’s door.

Come to think of it, I am neither hungry nor full,

Stuck in the middle without a strong rope to pull.

If I were to let you know about all my lost feeling,

I still couldn’t initiate a process of life’s healing.

Even if I have learned something you don’t know,

There are still a multitude of things I don’t know.

So much of my long life has already happened,

What about those things that never happened.

I guess we all just live life betwixt and between,

That’s why I still wonder what it all may mean.