The nurse wrapped a warm toasty blanket
around me as I waited for my MRI.
I wondered how many bodies this blanket
had warmed as folks sat
worrying about their perishable bones.
Then the thought came as clear as a bell
ringing, resounding, echoing from the apex of
a very high Himalayan mountain peak:
"I go on forever...I go on forever"
A gurney carrying a man in
obvious pain shuttled by.
I felt the sun rising over that mountaintop
splashing my face and
all the patients in the MRI room
“We go on forever…We go on forever…!"
Patients may go on forever in a steady stream as medical science comes up with new ways of diagnosis and treatment, but every individual has a date stamp it comes due regardless of thoughts some supernatural, ethereal existence beyond this world.
A further collection of poems, many from years in the Middle East, but also the California San Francisco and Central Coast areas (Santa Cruz, Carmel, Big Sur, Berkeley, etc.).
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With patience, genetically, we go on forever.
Ron