The azure blue sky is covered by lumps of gray clouds. This lumpy grayness does not hold Thor's thunder; they are filled with various frozen wetness. Though not on the ground, this frozen wetness forms a barrier between earth and sky, demanding my bones to ache. And, they do. I remember days gone by when my skeleton did not moan from such torture. As I sit and remember those days, I want to deny this, the autumn of my life. Clinging still, do I, to whatever youth is left within me. My thoughts fly back on the wings of memory to my days of youthful exuberance.
Yes, those days of youthful laissez-faire living, fueled by sugary ignorance that screamed to be expelled. Expelled it was, and the created void quickly filled with experience gained. So often was the experience bittersweet, a hard pill to keep down. But there were times when the sweetness was overwhelming. I relive that sweetness in daydreams; the bittersweet haunts my sleep. I have learned from these experiences, my wyrd and orlog, from my words, actions, and their resultant effects. Plan now, can I, to lessen the bitterness of any future sourness. Clarity is mine.
Now when I stand and gaze at those lumps of gray, I see my father, mother, and my ancestors. I can see all, back to the beginning, to the Lords and Ladies of Asgard.
Copyright @2014 Terry Unger
