The First Quarter

If it so happens, graciously,

that this is the first of four quarters,

then the prospect is a mighty good one.

And if there’s a succession of auxiliary verbs

that clothe our quarters,

however long they are woven and written and given to last,

I just crossed the finish line of “ought”.

During the last 25 years, I was introduced to

values, norms and habits,

customs, convictions and conventions,

rites, rituals and rights,

and to cultures from which they all grow.

I looked through lenses of living

and formed one for myself,

testing and probing and leaving

and starting anew yet again.

So with this pair of glasses,

there’s an almost clear vision installed

on the spheres that I am from.

When grouped as the next quarter awaiting,

then the next 25 years out there

will fall under auxiliary verb “is”,

symbolising the real, the immediate, the now.

With all that I was given,

the knowledge that I learned

and skills which I have earned,

and the trust that I keep,

it is now time to plunge on forward

into my surroundings right here and right now,

and to do my very own part

from dawn to dusk and past,

in the littles and the bigs

to create, make happen, realize.

And, in all of it, all the time,

keeping the sine wave flowing,

keeping the rhythm that connects

all of this, just like a beat.

At halftime, then, there’ll be champagne

and wrinkles and poise alike

and gray hair, perhaps, and summersaults, too,

and kids and books and dances

and mindfulness and gratitude

and many trips to the ocean.

And now the prognostics stop, alas,

because the third era, “can”,

will exhibit itself

what’s possible out there at all,

probing anew any boundary.

The final season, named “will”, some say,

will ring in the worlds gone by

and those out there and yet to come,

but that, even more so, is a far-away time.

And this is now

and plenty to catch

and hold and cradle and form.