72

Dancing at 72

I tried to write
A poem
Like previous years
A poem of triumphs
And tears
Memories of the past
And hope
For the future
But nothing…

Only this mellow feeling
That all is as it is
That there is nothing to do
No one to save
Nothing to give
Only to allow
The words, the rage
The love, the fear
The sorrow
To surface
And be released

We are all pawns
In this strange
Cosmic dance
That has no end
The only peace
Is acceptance
Of the part
We are ordained
To play

All suffering
Comes from wanting
To write
Our own script
To do it our way
Deaf to the prompts
The music
That rises
From the depth
Of our being
To our heart
From our soul

And all we are
Meant to do
Is dance

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