BLINK AND YOU WILL MISS ME

blink and you shall miss me

blink and you will miss me
me
the old fool

I exist in this moment
as do you my friend
too soon
both you and I
will be the dust
of cosmic storms
our purpose
whatever it may have been
as unsure of itself
and as mystical
as in the now

before long
we shall say adieu
to our memories
for memories
have no substance
they are not of
the carbon matter
of all other things
things that are finite
floating in
this infinite universe
they are a nothing
existing only in our heads
only while the heart beats

in a twinkling of an eye
mankind will be gone
from this place
yet while the thinking mind subsists
the lessons of history
have meaning
profound
or seemingly of
little significance
all of our recollections
have value
messages from the past
once digested
play a part
in how we serve out
the sentence
that is our existence

future generations
those as yet not conceived
might never find a paradise
in which to live
yet it is out there
given a fair wind
coupled with a perception
of what has gone before
then they may at least
chart their course

should a reason
for each of us
to recount our own story
then let it be to gift you
yes you
the ones that follow
such pieces of our lives’
that we may recall
negligible as they are
they may help guide you
upon your journey

 


28 thoughts on “BLINK AND YOU WILL MISS ME

  1. Mike , this is so fantastic. I am a fan of your writin. Deep and honest and wildly wise. Your quill renders well crafted lines full of wisdom. Subtly sweet and powerful prose. Way to go Mike.

    1. My thanks, although I am bound to say that ‘subtly sweet and powerful’ belongs to you, young Yasmin. This piece is on the cusp of rarity for me. Positive posts from my pen are few and far between. Notwithstanding your kind words are truly appreciated. Regards, The Old Fool

    1. Kind words for this old fool are appreciated, Ms S. I fell in love with Buffy at The Fairfield Halls, Croydon in either the late 60’s or early 70’s. If her song, ‘Until It’s Time For You To Go’ (later to be ruined by Presley) wasn’t enough her French version, ‘T’es pas un autre’ sealed the deal. What a fine gal she is.

      1. I love her Soldier Blue. She just has this amazing voice. i can listen to her sing in any language and any type of song. And you are right Presley wrecked that song. A worthwhile trip back here when I got that mom today, honest truth. You are greatly appreciated.

      2. ‘Soldier Blue’ a true gem, Ms S. I particularly like her early song ‘Now That The Buffalo’s Gone’. Very similar to ‘Soldier Blue’ in what it is trying to say.

    1. Good day, Ms Nifty Buckles. Strictly speaking it’s ‘carbon’ fairy dust. I’m told by the vertically challenged hairy gnome at the end of the garden, ‘carbon’ comes in all shades and colours. There, you have a choice as all gals should. Best regards, the Old Fool

    1. My thank, young Leslie. Do not forget that the particle of time we lived in persists. ‘Tis part of the timeline. Just imagine ‘warp speed’…for want of a better phrase. Multiply it by 10 or 20 times then revisiting the particle will be a thing of simplicity.

      1. A fine way to think. It may well come over as ridiculous but the particle we live in will always be. One hopes that in future times accessing it will be a doddle!

  2. Wonderfully poignant and deeply introspective writing. But I also love the fact that there’s a silver lining in the end. It reminded me of a famous poem:

    Nature’s first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf’s a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf.
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day.
    Nothing gold can stay.

    -Robert Frost, Nothing Gold Can Stay

    1. I am bound to say that ‘Nothing Gold Can Stay’ far outshines my tale. I’ve not previous stumbled upon it, hence my thanks. A blend of simplicity, observation and potential for contemplation a remarkable thing. I see Frost is an American. Had you not advised me his name I would have gambled good money on the fact that this poem was surely of early Victorian England origin. Beyond doubt ‘tis the finest thing I’ve read since the old king died.

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