December 31st 2015

Today, they tell me, is the last day of the year. There is no such thing except on a calendar. The first day of the year is the day you are born and the last day is the last day. That’s the way it is and the only certainty is that there is only one consistent killer. Time! So it is to be expected that on this day one reflects with affection on all the goodies of the faded ghost of the past year and looks forward in positive anticipation to the benevolence to come on the new page of time’s wristwatch; the calendar.

Then you have the comic exercise of New Year’s Resolutions. What a load of manure! I recall, some time ago, spending Christmas alone and the lack of human company was hardly an insurmountable obstacle. It gives a man time to think about the absurdity of it all. At that time, left to my own devices as stated, I wrote a little verse to compound in my vacuous brain what New Year’s Resolutions amounted to in the context of one’s past existence and likely prospects. I called this verse ‘Christmas Alone’ and nowhere was any evidence of the notion of ‘lonely’. I would rest my case if I had a case.

 Christmas Alone

Barefaced, bare-footed, staring

Into an empty grate.
Empty, except for those grey-green
Lifeless ashes
Who had their bright moments too;
A sculpted mug of black tea
My only solace.
Sorry I'd be for myself
If I were capable of care.
Alone, I've spent this pagan Christmas,
Alone, but not my own man.
New Year’s resolutions pointless, impossible;
Successful reminders of last year’s failures.
Where can a man turn?
Faced with the farce of his own futility.
Hoping for an ember cinder
I prod with the poker.

I am not a morbid man by any standards but the essence of this little verse encapsulates the mood I enjoyed and endured on this occasion. I was pandering to no one, least of all myself.  I further believe that I at least attempted honesty in the grounding of these words. As I recall, I was on the shaky bridge between kindred souls of the fairer sex at the time and my congratulations to the one on the leaving side of the abyss and the best of luck to the awaiting one on the not so distant shore. The wise man said; “Don’t call the crocodile ‘big mouth’ till you’ve crossed over the river”!

 

 

 

Let next year look after itself; ‘Que Sera Sera’. There it is!