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