One of the great songs and a poem.
The irony of a long life. We will know joy and sadness. We will have good days and bad days. We will want to live forever and we shall want to die in the moment.
Today I sit by Lake St. Clair. I’m surrounded by shipwreck memories.
I learn years ago by reading Jack London and Hemingway. We must test life to have lived. Must love many to know peace and never except little, when life is never-ending.
The irony of a dreamer is. He will forget his dreams and accept less. He will learn. You cannot return to the place he once knew.
Young writer sat with me. She asked. Is to love, life? I smiled and I kissed her forehead. I told her. Love is like walking on a tight rope without a safety net. Love and hate is a part of all of us. We will look at love with different views. The passion of youth will become the need of kind voices and lover near. We will learn. We need open doors for the family and receiving and giving forgiveness without regret.
She looked confused and she asked. Does passion die and fade away to forgotten place? Are we doomed to need less, love less? Old poet smiled and he told her. Love will linger, the noble promises made that we could not keep. They will haunt us. Real love grow to a new place. You will live and die for your love. Work like a dog and never complain to ensure your love needs are fulfilled. Enjoy your love is always content and safe. The flesh will need less and the heart will need more.
She smiled and kissed my face-cheeks. She told me. Love does live and love doesn’t forget. Love need to be reminded daily.
Old Poet smiled and he agreed.