2037
There is no doubt I've toiled, but my labor bore its fruit.
My struggles were anointed by success and earthly gains.
I met a wondrous woman and love grew from a deep root,
into a blossoming family, under God's soft, gentle rains.
The Church is still my stronghold, my castle—on a cloud?
It is the center of my purpose, though doubts rear time to time.
Yet I am molded from my distant youth, and proud,
to add my own hum to the organ's mighty rhyme.
My tools are decades-old techniques: pulling dragons from the ground.
We still need the energy, though the time of carbon wanes.
My father was an oilman, but my son must search around.
I wonder where his energy, in twenty years hence strains.
I am a pawn in history, unworthy of a name, yet—
I think I have won the race ... or none have, I have met.
22 April 2017
Written for "YOU 20 Years From Now" contest, sponsored by Brenda Chiri
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