I was never young,
I always felt myself to be an old man
trapped in a young man’s body,
I always saw my hair gray
when it was pitch black,
I always felt the lines of old age
crisscrossing my young face,
and I always felt myself awkward and out of tune
in places and with people
with whom I should’ve been most at ease.
Then how is it that now
as I grow older,
how is it that now
as my hair begins to whiten
and as my face and body
begin to change
I feel my spirit growing younger,
bustling with more energy and clarity
with each new day?
What strange fruit have I eaten
in my wanderings through the garden
of the spirit as I held your hand
What strange garden have I cultivated
that I am now standing on my own head?
Growing youthful as I grow older
in an inverse order —
ah the uncanny feeling!
how strange! how beautiful!
and how right it feels!
as if a god has taken my body for his lodging
and has taken my body for a spin
on the pathways of life and love,
knocking on the doors
of the broken and the beautiful,
the difficult and the tempting,
teasing and challenging me
and throwing me out and into the cauldron of fire
and with each footstep
binding me to heed
the deep call of eternity.