A Rare Journey

I am loved.
I am hated.
I am revered and reviled.

I am dull.
I am fascinating.
I listen better than I talk.

I feel old.
I look less so.
But that is changing quickly.

I crave the sacred.
I flounder in the profane.

I like bourbon, ballet, and boxing.
I like holy places
and children, which are sometimes the same.

I am falsely accused
of being wise, when what I am is a man
who has made most of the mistakes,

Sometimes spectacularly.

I love deeply,
and sometimes well.

I love conversation
but too much with too many
leaves me drained and dry as a husk.

I love cats.
Dogs like me.
I have given up on life making sense.

or being consistent.

I have had it all.
I have lost most of it.
and found something unexpected and wonderful,

that to be vulnerable is not the same as weakness,
but rather, a rare journey full of truth,
a place once of fear,

but now, of peace.

About this poem

It’s good being imperfect.

Tom