Caressed by the summer wind, the warrior wanders on.
For far too long I’ve railed
Against the world and its untold
And broken stories, tales regaled
In hearts and hearths for years
Have spun their strings and sewn their seams
Together, we have hopes and fears
Old, I cling upon a rail as if a cane
Guided by the ancient dreams
Now lost like love that wanes
What sparked my soul is bathed in tears
Lost, without the rails and tracks
Of younger days to guide me back
The end is near like points of spears
Sharpened tongues that jeer
The old are leaving on their final ride
To nowhere, out of sight just like the tide
The last train home for all we held dear. Our loves, our lives, and all our fears. To age is to see oneself pushed towards the tracks by what is new. But we will rail and fight. For what is living without standing like a sign in the desert, proclaiming to the stars that we are here?
While helping my brother shop for furniture, I noticed a curious set of items in the kitchen section: dishes and cups that were not perfectly shaped. It reminded me about an online article about the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi.
At the risk of oversimplifying it,the concept is about appreciation of the imperfect. This is different from how Western ideals of beauty and art are focused on perfection, that beauty is associated with the divine. Gods that never age or never do wrong.
But wabi-sabi does not focus on grandeur and divinity. It relishes in the simple, the rustic, the idea that, flawed creatures as we are, our creations will be flawed as well. But that does not detract from their charm at all. Everything ages, everything fades, everything is flawed. And that is okay.
Realizing that is one reason why I mustered the courage to draw and write again, and to post my work online even if they are not the highest quality. I hope that I did a good job.
I think it is time to listen to “All of Me” by John Legend.