HOLD ON TIGHT FOR ONE MORE DAY

HOLD ON TIGHT FOR ONE MORE DAY

I am not a stupid man, I see the writing on the wall,
Mankind has glimpsed mortality since the Garden and the Fall.
Since Eve took a bite of the apple, and Adam joined her in her folly,
And the serpent crawled on his belly and hissed,
We have lived with this knowledge and this strange melancholy.

Each day it is harder to talk and to type, to walk and to carry it on,
I am grateful to come to the end of the cycle when all of my troubles are gone.
And I still feel surprise when I wake to a sunrise and find myself still here.
As the dark of night passes into morning sweet and dear.
With another new dawn with the dew on the lawn, another twenty-four,
To hold my lover, to breathe, to talk, to walk my dyskinetic walk,
To feel fresh air upon my face and to taste the ocean spray.
To drain the dwindling coffers of what this life may offer,
To hold on tight for one more day.

I am not a cockeyed optimist, racing for a midnight cure,
I take it one day at a time, progressively unsure,
How long I can suffer the slings and arrows,
How long I can join in the frenetic dance,
My forehead is lined with creases and furrows,
My life is a game of random chance.

I harbor no grandiose scheme or dreams, for I gave them up for Lent.
My spirit sings for simpler things, my energies are spent.
Sometimes it is quite enough to while away an hour,
Stiff as a statue in some picturesque park,
In sweet communion with the flowers.
To breathe in the fragrance, the tendrils and the tree bark,
To feel the sunshine descend on my face like a prayer,
Not craving more than just to be there,
Still a part of the struggle, still with a horse in this fight,
A bloody boxer just not ready for the fading of the light.

I am grateful for life, for hope, and for friends,
For the little small blessings on which this life depends.
I am thankful for daydreams, for hope and for grace,
For each special soul, for each sacred place.
I am at the railway station, luggage in my hand,
Nothing in my pockets but a hobo’s grain of sand.
My heart is wide open, bursting at the seams,
My mind is racing wildly, blithely chasing daydreams.

I know not my departure time, I’m not sure I care to know,
Just for today my ticket is punched, and the earth it revels in its show.
I am always more holy than just flesh and bone,
I shall mix, alas, with the sand and the foam.
Away my spirit will gallantly fly, with the galaxies will play.
I close my eyes meanwhile and smile and hold on tight for one more day.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED