Poem: There Are Those Who Said He Met the Future

There are those said he met the future and those who said his future never came

There are those who regret his passing And those who washed their hands

There are those who had drawn a line And those who walked altogether

There are those he soothed egos And those who never could be tamed

But in the end, what's the diff, If we are alone when we leave And are greeted as we arrive How close we are on this side Will shadow our love on the other

Hardest thing about growing old

Is remembering the past:

The youth, the zeal, no end to time

Now it's age, resting, and numbered days

Pushed and rolled to the end? Or pulled and dragged through the years? My choice or God's, my steps ordained? Will an award await, or an exiled eternity?

Yet, the years continue to pass

And memories of past victories and success

Become a haunting, asleep or awake

No escaping the pointed finger, accusing voices

Where every your heart is,

There is the treasure,

And that is tough to clarify

When your heart has led you a dozen ways

One would hope for a dozen treasures