taking stock

Fifty-five-- it’s a speed, and it’s an age. I wondered if the two are connected.  When you’re fifty-five do you travel along life’s highway at a pace that’s not too slow or not too fast? Is it the perfect speed for the middle path?

Maybe-- until the lane changes.

Traveling at 55

I wouldn’t be who I am now,

if I hadn’t been who I was then.

As if I can define either time,

now or then,

or any form,

who or what,

or any possibility,

when or if.

Long past is discussion of

who I want to be,

waiting,
for who I might be,

or consideration of

who I should be

or could be.

Now,

there is just me-

unimpeded by want,

or wait,

or should,

or could.

Now,

there is just living-

the now and the then,

the who and the what,

the when and the if-

just as they are,

just as they may be.

- lkr 2015