Posted by Francis Kent on March 17, 2012, 2:16 pm, in reply to "Re: Remembering"
Message modified by board administrator March 19, 2012, 10:24 pm
Clarence: I thank you for the thoughtful comment. Give my regards to your wife. I write these things as a way of staving off dementia. Here's another, which has nothing to do with the Armed Guard but which you might, as one who must be as old as I am, sympathize with. |
Are we really, as the poet said,
No more than poor players,
Who strut and fret, aimlessly,
A brief hour upon life's stage?
Or is there, as others tell us,
Something more, a purpose,
An unknown and unknowable
Dimension to why we’re here?
Even now, in what is called
The late autumn of my years,
I still find myself pondering
The mystery of this question.
I’m unable, as from the start,
To call up any evidence
That might, just might, support
The notions that occur to me.
Who can say, for example,
That we’re not, in truth,
Just reading from a script
Lines penned long ago by Fate?
Or what skeptic can disprove
The idea that we’re guided
By a winged, always-present
Companion, a guardian angel?
Without the slightest hesitation,
I confess that I don’t know;
But the day will surely come,
When the mystery is swept away.
Then, and only then, will I
Be able to express my thanks
For the years that I was given,
For the life that I was granted.
Not every day was joyful;
There were hard times, wars;
But I have no regrets, no complaints,
For I was without question blessed:
Blessed with loving parents,
Caring siblings, lasting friends,
My wife who, though gone now ,
Still gives meaning to my life.
-- Francis B. Kent