Needing Not the Beyond
by Odin Roark

Inherent in living
is the choice-laden journey of aging.

Some wake up to pain,
others to bewilderment,
while some are overwhelmed
they’ve traveled this far.

The majority become confused,
thinking there’s only fate,
forgetting destiny is still theirs.

A few of us live out the remaining years
as unencumbered oarsmen
rowing our survivalist’s raft purposefully,
passing the flotillas of massive unknown destinies
moored to the shoreline of experience not yet realized.

How revealing this drifting away from yesterdays,
watching the many await their tomorrows
not yet knowing there’s only today.

Up ahead…

Sunrises and sunsets enlighten
like bookmarks noting our next page to be turned.

And yet…

So many from the decks of voyages yet to launch
wave their imagined triumphs to us,
their casting-off celebrations of streamers,
champagne, and the loud announcements
of joy and happiness still not underway,
as we paddle into more uncharted waters,
seeing reality’s weather ahead,
promising nothing but more unknowns.

Shortly…

For those of us long past our youthful bellicose beginnings,
and even with currents continuing to vary,
unpredictable clouds roiling their confrontation,
echoes of the past continue to recede,
making room for taking in the oars,
allowing the rough and gentle seas of perpetual change
to magically create passage into more no-regret acceptance.

Of course…

There’s the inevitable seagull
needing to make itself known,
fulfilling a mission to alert us land is near by,
a place to dock,
a place where feet can replant on ground.

Most of us out there,
we floaters with an oar,
smile, wave off the wings of intent,
and continue our modest quest.

How delectable that horizon never disappearing,
the one still waiting for us to catch its never-die tenacity,
its ever-reliant moonset,
its ever-faithful breaking of dawn.