Ancient Wishes

I used to wish I was tall dark and handsome,
with a full head of hair and big, bright eyes
that commanded attention where ever I went;
that I was so talented and focused
that peope were dazzeled by my aura;
a world changer, a beacon.

But I was made something else. Average height.
A bit slim. Mostly bald by middle age.
My eyes sparkle over the family bags under my eyes.
Talented enough, but no so that I make a mark
except perhaps on a few kindred souls
that stumble onto me at a good or bad time’
changing snippets of the world, on a good day.
My beacon a candle, needing protection from the wind.

But I have learned not to compare. There is madness in it
and not the good kind (yes, there is a good kind. Ask
any couple still in love and they will tell you. Ask any soul
filled with the holy spirit and they will tell you.).
I have had my period of madness and come through it
a bit broke and a bit stronger and evidently
just what I am supposed to be.

About this poem

I am fortunate to have a wife who loves old balding avearage height men who thinks too much and too little at the same time. I am blessed to have people around me who like what is and don’t dwell on what I am not. It makes it easier for me to do the same.

There was a time I used to compare myself to others. That ended when my life came undone a couple of decades ago and I no longer cared what people thought of me. Who would have thought coming undone would end up being the turning point towards my best life?

God is good.

Tom

PS: The stones were made into art by a local artist, Heidi Hammell. This is an old picture. The ink has faded, but I keep the rocks, faded ink and all, because I loved what they were and in my head, still are.