Sunday, 2 December 2018
A bitter wind from the east blows memory out from the gathering dust, turning and dancing in the mind of this hapless fool, awakenings, realisation and knowing, life is different now.
Thoughts, as tears have left bitter tracks across the landscape of the soul and yet serve to remind us still that we are indeed alive and that life goes on regardless of whether we are or not.
Triumphs, achievements, new life and new beginnings, tinged with the bittersweet reminders of another life since departed. Indeed, it becomes far too easy to disappear into a insular world of self pity and woe unto I.
Easier still it becomes to demand an explanation, a retribution of attitude and treatment from another without once turning the spotlight upon our selves, is it not true that this journey through hell should become easier by taking our responsibilities to heart, admitting our failings and redressing a balance where ever possible?
The seed of haste has born forth the fruit of regret, a notion I once promised never to carry and yet as the proverb states I have my leisure in which to repent, much left unsaid, unfinished and unexplained, perhaps one day to atone for my own misgivings, to talk once more and to laugh beneath the same roof if not beneath the open sky.
All is not grim my friend, for below the iron grey sky we await the arrival of a new warrior, my eldest daughter's son, my own grandchild is upon his way, a new thread within the wyrd perhaps to shine far brighter that this tired line, which is exactly what both my children have done.
Never a day passes that I do not consider the people they are,the wonderful humans they have become. the strength and fortitude of ones so young, shield maidens both and an honour to call them my own.
And so we move to what may become a brighter future, let us base this world on communication and cooperation, not on loss and regret, let us talk by the fireside and listen to what we all have to say, listen to the song of the worlds, we are stronger together. A great man once told of the pain he felt wandering the wilderness on his own, I guess that to fully understand this one must (with some regret) walk in the wilderness also, I pray for that time to come to an end.
I shall look to my own failings, I will strive to become better than I am, for one day it is I that will be an ancestor to my people, perhaps one to be proud of, that is not for me to decide, and if we can all proceed thus then a cross word would be rare and an helping hand will be willing.
I shall carry my craft with pride and just maybe my own saga will be told.
Flags,Flax and Fodder.