by V R Rutledge

Created on: July 12, 2008

I didn't write this
a depressed, emotionally needy, pitiful me,
Who, wrestling with the demons of despair and doubt,
was feeling old and, insofar as life goes, useless.
I didn't write this,
a cheap antique, unloved, unneeded, and unwanted
without a future save for lonely, bleak old age.
a living, voiceless, ghost of what was once a man.
I didn't write this
in a world, where age is something to be avoided,

where experience and knowledge are considered worthless
beneath the motto: "Change is good, no matter what.",
I did write this,
in the here and now,
Saying "Thanks be to God."
Because I have lived, am still alive,
have seen, known and learned;
found love and family,
with joy and gladness.
For half a century of delight, through the tears, loss and fear
a journey from birth to now,
In a world where growing old is not a crime punishable by death
And Death not a demon, taking us after Forty years and no hope of more.
For the best of times making up for the worst,
Though the worst times came from my choice.
For being there even when I was lost, far from you,
Thanks be to you, God.
For patience and forgiveness when I was impatient and unforgiving,
And for allowing me to use this planet you made to experience life,
I did write this.
To say Thank you.

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