Accidents that matter

  

(date unknown)

 

You get scared,

Can’t breathe

For thinking,

It all must end,

The perpetual high

Of being you

Drawn to a close

At age 30,

Or 35, or 40, or 50

Or whatever age

We end up,

When there is more

Behind than ahead

And what’s ahead

Is a dead end,

And what you miss

Most in all this,

Are those brief interludes

Between struggles for survival

When real joy occurs,

Like finding crocuses

In the dark loam

At winter’s end,
unasked for,

Yet intensely welcome,

When you realize

It’s not the plans you make

That makes you happy

But the accidents,

The stumbled up,

The powerful moments

When the universe

Comes together

And you think,

You hope,

You pray

Fate did it all for you,

And perhaps

It did for me

When I met you

 

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