Lifescape
See where I started,
in the garden of my
childhood.
Fenced around with parents
hedged
in with strict convention.
Walk
with me.
The bare hills of ambition from my youth
lead upward, onward, overlooking
crowds and earthbound throngs.
Climb the eroding pathway to the top
whence with far-ranging envy see,
mocking,
the high peaks of distant mountains,
unattainable,
glitter their silvered summits.
Stand on these cliffs and wonder
as the seabirds
plunge and soar
like hopes and aspirations
tempting disaster as
fate's breakers
beat upon the rocks of past mistakes.
Walk on the clifftop, if you dare;
the tightrope of success;
never relaxing concentration,
risking the headlong plunge
from heaven to hell slowed only,
if you're lucky,
by the outstretched hand of friendship.
Now wander through these quiet woods
of contemplation,
restful and green with peaceful glades.
Soft birdsong filters shafts of sunlit
understanding,
bringing into wondering view
the undergrowth of hidden imaginings.
Sit for a while, for a short season's warmth
beside this running brook of happiness
and listen to its peaceful trills
contrapuntal to the murmured sounds
of slow, contented summer,
tranquil in a lover's arms beneath
the frantic beauty of the skylark's song.
Descend these nameless, slippery paths
that lead through the dark places
to the chasms,
to the lonely depths of black despair
where
in deep, dank caves of restless sleep
and every monster's shadow looms
large and overbearing.
I offer you no final resting place,
no welcoming tavern for a lifetime's thirst,
no sheltered bungalow to care for
after work well done.
Only a cross-roads in a barren place
where a blind fingerpost
hints at unseen directions,
untravelled paths with unknown travellers
crossing.
Walk
with me.
Kim
James
26/5/95
