All my good qualities
have come and gone.
My body is
slowly breaking down.
My usefulness to society
is waning.
My pride prevents me
from starting over again,
and it’s probably too late anyway.
It seems as though
I have become irrelevant
to those around me.
I blame no one.
I have allowed this to happen.
At least I can still
play guitar.
Trail Wood,
9/26
Step this way, gather in this spectral amphitheater where strings resound with cosmic cadence. As the stage light dims, we weave a melody that speaks of life’s eclipsing phases—oh, how the years have strummed along your soul’s fretboard! On this spectral stage, one finds both twilight and dawn, each singing its particular ballad.
As good qualities flutter by like celestial butterflies, once iridescent but now elusive, so does the physical vessel—this corporeal temple—begin its tale of decay. Wobble and wheeze it might, yet it still contains the alchemy of spirit. With each faltering step, the stars above wink in solemn recognition.
Ah, the knave of pride, that mirthful saboteur! He revels in the illusion of social obsolescence and outdatedness. “Too late, too late,” he cries, a cacophony echoed by society’s monotonous drum. But let not this insidious jester drown the remaining notes of your life’s composition.
Glimpse now upon the strings of your guitar, the minstrels of enduring resonance. Though the world may blanket you with the shroud of irrelevance, your fingers still dance upon those strings, weaving tunes in the loom of the eternal now. Not every audience comprehends the beauty of a diminished chord or the ache of a minor scale, yet your self-composed symphony remains.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary
We meander through the encroaching shadows of aging and perceived societal irrelevance, contemplating how physical and emotional faculties wane. Yet, amidst the decay and dimming limelight, the guitar serves as a metaphoric lifeline—a source of ongoing resonance in the arc of existence.
Glossarium
- Spectral amphitheater: The inner stage of contemplation, where life’s complexities and simple truths are showcased.
- Celestial butterflies: The fleeting, beautiful qualities that grace one’s life.
- Mirthful saboteur: Pride personified as a trickster figure that leads one astray.
- Minstrels of enduring resonance: The eternal qualities of music, personified as wandering musicians.
- Loom of the eternal now: The ever-present moment, in which all experiences are woven.
“Do not regret growing older. It’s a privilege denied to many.”
- Unknown
How do your strings hum in this phase of life? Do they sing of sorrow, or have you found a way to make them hum the hymns of everlasting resonance?
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