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Poem

IF YOU MOURN FOR ME, MOURN HAPPY

He sat on the laminate floor reading poems he had written years ago
He read them and asked himself did I really write these?
He was surprised the poems were that good
After all these years, they’re still good and relevant, he said to himself

Though he had been published in a few magazines many years ago
he was never considered to be at the top rung of the list of poets
The more he read his poems the more his tears flowed
memories flooded his mind of his ill-fated expectations 

But Life is what it is 
only passing out a few genius tags in any field
when looking for glory in any artistic endeavor
leaving your ego at the entrance of the work room is critical 

Mindful that all work is only as good as the artist’s diligence
It’s the work that’s ultimately important he told himself
In his youth he looked for the payoff and waited for glory but
unable to comprehend Life's vagaries, expectation died losing the dream 

Later, in understanding those truths
Reality became more evident
He had gotten old and wiser 
But not necessarily smarter 

Adulthood might have shown up sooner with patience 
but comprehending the end times are around the corner
is like knowing the rent is due and the landlord will kick you out
or when a good musician disappears in the ether of a killer addiction

Or like God’s benevolent hands around your throat
with happy Satan laughing in your face
or the pathetic smile we display when remembering 
the man that was and the words he wrote as an old man

Today if by chance you see me lying dead you may mourn for me
let your feelings go as a bluesman lets go into the blues
a lesson in acceptance and surrender
So if you mourn me, mourn happy.

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