Looking to the Future

when grey strands greet me
and a bald pate meets my hand
what will be remembered?
what will be best forgotten?

The summers of my youth
merely the winters of my soul,
icicles cutting the heart to shreds
plunging with regret
daggers of doubt froze action
their sharp poison reasonating

will the stupidity be a memory
seen with welcome clarity?
like old photos covered in dust
the pain will be nostalgic.
Faces forgotten,
locations merely strange names
drifiting in time’s mists

what skies will greet my rising
into another age of reason?
Hopefully the water won’t lap
the feet of renewed Canutes
and faces won’t be burnt by ozone free skies
and vicious lies will be gone.
My ashes will rise into clearer air,
our struggles will have proven
that humanity can learn from pain.

When the four winds scatter me
I will settle on a new Earth
where greed will never reign again.