The chair

Day 771, 10:10 • Published in Ireland Ireland • by Kit Fisto

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The chair
by Anonymous


Our stories have been written by scribes of old,

Our values tailored by fireside tales told,

Our hands etched with scars of unconditional love,

Our spirits tempered by the union of hawk and dove.

Our songs have been sung, the bells have been rung,

And our hearts hewn from those who before us begun

To carve the cradles of our past and the coffins yet to come,

Along our life’s-pathways stroll in the hallowed hallways of the soul,

Whither once we marched in step to that glorious rhyme...

But that was then, and that was a different time.



Too often we feel that where we sit will go out of fashion,

So we make our excuses, push the chair back, take our leave,

And hope that our restless feet will point us home...

They do, because we always move full-circle.



I am still young, but I have pushed my chair back too many times,

And people who would have graced my table have come and gone,

The time has come to repent my ways;

I take my place upon my carved chair,

To seek the treasure already mine, for the remainder of my days.





I hope you enjoyed it...






General Kit Fisto
Radical
President of Irish Radical Party
Irish Envoy for EDEN
IDF's Commanding Officer
Publisher of Dead Boy's Poem Book, Culture Ranger,Cloak, Hat And Scotch and R.A.D.I.C.A.L
IDF's Poetic Bard
Leader of Poetry Revolution
Long haired BAMF DODGE knight
Former Minister of Defence
Former deputy Minister of Health
Former TD