my occasional musings on life, love, art, perfume ... what else is there?


Thoughts of Death, and a Paul Simon Song

People dear and near to me hate it when I allow in one of my Emily Dickinson moods. "Because I could not stop for Death/He kindly stopped for me/ the carriage held but just ourselves/ and all Eternity." Truth be told, I'm tiresome. But I see it as pale but interesting.

It's not like middle age ushered in this fascination with death. I have always given a lot of thought to it.

I read something recently that defined death as the thing we spend so much of our life pushing away and trying not to think about. We all do it. Just some of us admit it.

What will it be like not to be? As someone who appreciates watching shades of green through the seasons, I can get really sad thinking about never seeing green again.

But maybe one does again. Without knowing one has. Unless one has the strange inkling that "I have done this before."

One thing that's different about having had a stress test or two is that you start watching your body and its operations in a different way: "ok, what does this mean?" Sitting on the bus, traveling to work, your chest tightens. "Hm. Is this it?"

The pain goes away and you walk the rest of the way to the office.

Time, time, time
See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities

I was so hard to please

But look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside
It's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned

Carry your cup in your hand

And look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
is a hazy shade of winter

Hang onto your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend

That you can build them again

Look around
The grass is high
The fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life

Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me?
At any convenient time.

Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime

I look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Look around Leaves are brown

There's a patch of snow on the ground


Post a Comment

<< Home