My Santiago

Fragile happiness

We are conceived, Then born into this world, We grow to conscious thought somewhat impatiently,

Anxious to assume our space, Moving through adolescence, Certain in the knowledge that the next stage will reveal the secrets of this existence to us, And bring clarity to confusion.

The next stage reveals an arrogance of sorts where bodies don’t falter, And minds grow, Leaving room for failure to reach potential, Telling ourselves that time is infinite, Years, abundant, So waste being acceptable.

But somewhere there lurks the germ of disappointment, Regret, sadness, at waning youth and desire, But even so, These are only blips, And we are stalled briefly, Doggedly lifting heads And journeying on to middle age, Where we now love newer versions of ourselves in our children, Vicariously untapping our potential through their lives, Lying to them about our mishaps that hindered our goals, Knowing that the lies we tell, Fool no one, Least of all ourselves. But it suffices, placates, soothes the restless soul till we can let go of the pretence and settle, comfortably,