Snow On The River Viii Poem by jim hogg

And now the journey's almost done a balance must be struck
Between forgetting on the rise and wisdom yet to come
Or maybe thought's irrelevant to matters of the heart
Sensation, thrill, enchantment all combine in cupid's dart

And leave so very little room for anything but love
And all of its commands until, its spellbound course is run
Yes, I suppose that's where I am: on mountain top or stool
and looking back in wonder at each frame on every spool

A bashful kid, I stayed that way through every winding turn
And every ruse to free myself just made the problem worse.
It's who I am and much too late I've almost come to terms,
But might have beens that never were can still provoke regret.

There is so little certainty in all that living brings
At least from here that's how it looks, and youth is short of wits
It sees just what it wants to see, and at its beck and call:
a future where it all works out, where only sunlight falls

Except of course we learn in time that life has other plans -
The reasons why I've washed up here are numerous and bland.
The changing tides, the wind and waves, a million little things
Contrive to steer us where they must, in league with time's fleet wings

We also learn, if given time, that much of what seemed real
Was merely nature's sleight of hand, its cunning masterpiece
It shapes the lives we think we lead until the penny drops
So much of living is mirage and endless Russian dolls

The guy behind the curtain plays the longest game of all
He's algorithmic, merciless, he's juggling every ball
And unaware of everything, the tenderness and tears
Exquisite moments binding hearts, and all our deepest fears

But here we are, in happiness, in struggle, and in doubt
and all of that is real enough to see us through somehow
I'm old now, but don't feel the years, and fancy several more
That's optimistic but I'll try, to sail beyond the shore.