We are all struggling with the conditions of society. In different ways.
Marooned on our family island.
We are all reacting in different ways. To the conditions of not fitting in.
For my folks the conditions of age. What’s expected from you old? The mojo gone from all around. The boredom you might die from. What happened to the getup and go? We need a new project. Not these old fogeys we’re expected to hang out with.
Friendships fall short. Never remembering as we do. Caring. Sharing our home. Why is it the good folk always seem the loneliest?
We are all rebelling. Trying not to fight internally. Just pissed at the outside world.
It seems to be burning out there. Imploding in hate. We can’t talk politics. Too depressing. Nothing seems to change.
Only it does. I argue. I’ve not lost the belief in a better world yet. Maybe I haven’t seen the same patterns too many times. To lose faith.
I’m seeing the wheels turn very slowly towards a collective earth.
I just want them to have faith. Hope in new friends. New days. New adventures. Folk who can see their young hearts.
I want to believe I’ve got something better to look forward to. A world that doesn’t seem intent on casting its elders aside.
These yuppies will be the death of us all. I can’t wait for them to get old too. I’m going to enjoy watching this one. Will they have attachments to carry them around on their e-scooters. When the bus stops are too far and the cars aren’t allowed. Or will they all just stay at home? Lonely. Too boring to bother like.
We’re all just so self-absorbed.
We’ve lost a lot with the drop-in and chat. The call round for a cuppa.
I want an old world with new parameters.
“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come.”
― Jelaluddin Rumi