The hide has come into being
Lovingly crafted from the timbers and bark surrounding it
Boyhood memories were summonsed by ritual reenactment of childhood dreaming
Distant moments of smells and sounds and textures vividly brought back to life.
A golden haired boy carefree at play in the bush
The last of his kind before the suburbs took the land
The frontier crept into the wilderness and the boy never stopped seeking its retreating elves
Tolkien breathed life into nobility living in the sanctuaries from modern life
Here in the now adult skills and tools brought the hide into this world
More success than the boy ever achieved
End of each day body stiffer than once it might have been
Satisfaction looking upon creation
An offering to beauty, time and the ravages of the tropics
It will not last
Already some decay is present
No time for youth now
Perhaps a few years
Maybe 10 with chemical assistance and ongoing maintenance
The boy in me lives but wonders why the man he expected never came to be
The man who sits there claims the boy as no stranger but recognition is not easy for some
Plato warned of these reversals with age
The biological urge was pushed aside by some grand calling
Energies subverted or transformed?
The end of an evolutionary line
I did not choose this yet I chose adventure
I think the unknown again on the edge of the abyss
The craft constructed to sail it ran aground
Perhaps a wreck
Must I dive in once again to reinvent myself?
Chaos reigns from weather to politics and the tangled wills of little people
everywhere known patterns reveal themselves
Inside the hide observer unseen
Outside birds go about their business
The scientist ever questing after objectivity
A kookaburra sits on a projecting pole and gets the joke
An Oriel sits on eggs in a nest of the same materials
Incubating the continuity and change of its race
A white-breasted cuckoo-shrike hangs around to the orioles agitation
In the peace of silent observation ideas are free to take new form
Hatching new plans
Ideas from all ages recombine and who can claim any as they flow through us?
Where is hope?
Where is love?
Thankfully there is always love
Each bird can bring the rapture beyond names and forms
Their song cuts through the solitude to remind that we are all with all the word and it is full of beauty if only we stop to see it
Nothing lasts but everything is forever once it has been
I may leave no genes behind but future memories await their moment of being
On with the dance