So Much Older Then

Once, I was in love with everything.
The way water formed and fell,
The notches of trees standing like monuments to life,
The sandbox days of warm comfort,
The cool nights by a loving furnace,
Laughing,
In a clearing of the thicket,
We dug the dirt with a spade,
Saw a glimpse of the unbelievable world beneath us.
We had kissed,
Everyone was furious,
But we were proud.

Then came the resignation of age.
I fumbled for a switch in cosmic darkness:
“What does it mean?”
That some God or other doomed us with awareness?
The universe observing itself?
Again, I fell in love.

At first, the music was anxious,
A Pythagorean humming,
Growing into bombastic sigmas,
Of shrill patterns,
Of gentle geometry - sailing trigonometric seas.
The planes slid into place,
As simple as Diophantine sums,
A clear melody that told impossible stories:
The heroes turned mysteries into
Tautologies.

Then I found out that there was no hero,
Just a job,
And I quit.

But blessed be the phoenix,
The silly days of youth,
Returning like a steady rhythm.
I am content now to merely remember it.