O! To be young once more!
To feel the wind in my hair and dirt under my boots without a thought of the future.
To find myself once more in a freedom state of mind.
To feel not the ailments that I might gain.
I yearn to run far away - to a place where I might view the vibrant sunset with worthy company.
Perhaps these day are through - these days where the air is crisp and cool, and the moon doesn't arrive until I allow it to.
These days when my face aches not only from the biting wind, but also the smile it has held.
These are the golden days.
Everything about them is golden, truly.
The light of the sky.
The hearts of the people living them.
The tears on my cheeks at the end of them.
The blood pumping through my veins as I climb as high as my body will allow.
I am climbing a golden mountain.
We drink from a gold stream.
Gold, gold, gold.
Perhaps these days are through, these golden days.
Or perhaps these days have not yet begun.
Because some mornings, when I wake, I hear a whisper.
From where it comes, I know not.
But the whisper says to me,
"Run.
Run, and climb, and breathe, and live.
Truly live.
In this day,
And every day you have left."
I know that there will come a day when I can no longer run.
A day I can no longer climb.
There will even come a day that I can no longer breathe.
A day that I live no more.
So before that day arrives, I must live as much as I can, and as deeply as possible.
I am young, still.
I can still feel the wind in my hair, and dirt under my boots, as long as I try.
These are the golden days, truly.
Perhaps someday they might come to an end.
But when the sky fades from gold into black, I will be there to watch it.
I will sit upon a hill with worthy company, witnessing as, for the last time, the world is made of gold.
The ground beneath my boots will blacken, but I will stoically observe it.
The world might no longer be golden, but I can tell from the warmth of the hands grasping mine that our hearts remain so.
But for now, welcome.
To the golden days.
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Golden Days
PoetryA poem written one evening with no planning. I'm glad I wrote it. I hadn't written in a while. This reminded me what it was like. Song at the beginning is the namesake. It also offered a bit of inspiration (but not all). Plus it's just a freaki...
