Longevity is not always a blessing…
Even if you wallow in wealth, or, best of health
Not because the sensual senses attenuate
Tapering off gradually their sentience with senility…
But because the benediction of life becomes so baneful
When your bosom friends and younger siblings meet history
While you inexorably crawl
Raking fears of damned ductile death.
You reduce to a relic on the attic
A time-warped capsule…. like a Rip-wan-winkle,
No longer leaving any alluvium behind the trails of your age.
You become an analogue in a digital age
Chiming with the same irregularity of your heart beat
Stories and anecdotes that stick to your memory
Like an in-erasable virus
That strong refractory respect your children bore thus far
Starts thawing from a hard diamond to granite,
To an iceberg, to flakes of icicle, to snow, to dew,
To droplets, and ultimately to inchoate ether.
Your ideas become memories,
And memories facts and principles
Drawing up lines and putting up barriers
Inhibiting Young from enterprising.
As years heap upon you
You become obsolete and irrelevant to the world
Awaiting and yearning
The Damocles’ sword to snap ASAP.
10th August 2009.