Baggage in Waiting

As my eyes and ears take in audiobook history

I’m subjected to the good and bad

The memorable

Some of which better forgotten

Mostly though

The audible senses have been left with gratitude

Even as I’m witnessing centuries-old death

An insufferable amount of dying

Often by execution

Though occasionally

Succumbing to biological wear and tear

And just dying

So many pale faces

I wonder if ashen is how judges see

Murderers before sentencing

How dark the morning skies must be

For those being led to their demise

Did they think ahead and picture

The likes of future history

Tomorrow’s me

Tomorrow’s you

All of us yet to be born

For...

Everyone lives and dies

With so few avoiding regret

Wishing they had behaved in a better way

Wishing they could escape their guilty end

Yet…

For those without regret

Most likely they will have given more attention to the simple things

The slow breathing in of what clear air is left

The careful listening to the quiet of surviving forests

The sensitive smell of a meadow after a rain

The satiate taste of a wild blueberry

The velvet touch of a fallen rose petal.

Perhaps even the birth of you

Of me

Lest we forget…

Future history may start simple

As baggage in waiting

Waiting out the beginning of Life’s complexity