Nothing lasts forever. Even
trouble has a shelf-life; smiling
won’t fix anything, but it
will sure make your world
a sunnier place to live in…
If it’s treasure you’re after,
‘X’ always marks the spot;
the places where push shoves
and rubber smears the road
and frost-feathers freeze
are inexorably painting a bull’s-eye
on your soul.
Twenty paces shy of normal,
30 leagues under tumultuous seas,
the secrets of Life’s Map
are only drawn out under duress.
So cheer, Mate!
When troubles broil
and problems are plenty,
your treasure is multiplying –
You hide your scars well.
Wind has wailed and blasted skin
and sucked the water from every cell.
I see your petals are wearing thin
but from here it’s hard to tell
that you are walking wounded now,
limping with a twisted cane.
Deeper furrows line your brow,
etched with tools of deepest pain.
Yet golden still, your face shines on;
you smile as if you saw the gain –
that tragedy, its substance gone
had fought with you, and fought in vain.