Some Little Thoughts
by Raymonde Sacklyn
What We Forget
Wine may tend to drive away
The foolish man’s stresses, and distresses,
But, in truth, it is ordained that,
To run from the vagaries of life
Has no sway in the final reckoning:
For forever, we cannot stay.
Age shall determine when it is sublime
For man to stop to create, or procreate,
And drives of yesteryear
Too soon become a fading memory;
In too short a time, once nimble brain succumbs:
Life takes on the character of the inept mime.
Though man may try, being pure of thought,
Either in part, or truly of the heart,
Greed holds governance over all, and,
When temptation calls the nobler breed,
Weakness, fraught with age’s sway, throttles he
Who forgets the virtues that he ought.
Man is the survivor of his past errors:
Noble intentions, and contentions
Come with age and erudition;
Though there are those who never learn,
For most, errors and the nagging, painful fear of ignorance
Is the worst of all of life’s terrors.
Foolish man, the world’s adventurer, may try
To acquire the most, and then, promptly boast that
He is the best, the wisest
In his universe of dashing cavaliers.
But, with a sigh, he will, one day, have to admit
That, like the simplest and smallest bird alive, he cannot fly.
