What a fabulous poem and post. What is beginning to strike me at the phase of life I'm in now (54) is that everything in life has its season. Many of the things we waste time fearing we learn to accept when the time comes. Middle-age can be so strange—you begin to feel as though certain aspects of modern society are a bit foreign but you still feel like you're young inside. Sometimes the reflection staring back at you in the mirror isn't the one you remember or expect to see.
I didn't think much about mortality until the pandemic forcefully thrust it into all of our lives. I was very lucky up until that point not to really to be touched much by it. Now, in this middle-phase of life, the physical/mental decline of older relatives (and even some friends) serve as a constant reminder of how short and precious our time is. This makes me more patient, and appreciate the time with the people around me. In a weird way brings me to a place of a little more acceptance about my own mortality and just wanting to squeeze the most out of the years I have left. Still, sometimes, when I do the math, it's just surreal to think I only have a few decades left considering how quickly the past thirty years have gone.
I used to think more about legacy when I was younger but now it just seems pointless and even narcissistic. The most we can do is enjoy each moment and the thought of that gets real in your fifties.
It reminds me of this song.....
I definitely think you and I are on exactly the same page, which isn't surprising given we are same age. My Dad used to say, and my late grandmother, they'd get a fright seeing themselves in the mirror - who was that old person??
I think we should take solace in fact that even if, say, we died at 75, twenty years is a good chunk of life we can enjoy. Like Hardy in this poem, I think I'm far more observant about the beautiful things in the world, and, as you say, I'm a bit more patient with those I love.
During the pandemic I was a little obsessed with the goddess Kali - she taught me a lot about death and time. I'm fascinated by poetry and philosophy about death, not in an obsessive and morbid way, but I do find myself doing little thought dives, and that's probably good for me, as it may make my passing a little more gentle.
Dylan Thomas said we should rage against the coming night, but he was a man (no offense) and I rather think a quiet acceptance, whilst living well, is a better way to go.
Here's one little poem I wrote re Kali in the pandemic
https://peakd.com/poetry/@riverflows/sing-kali-devotional
And the other about accepting becoming older (not that I'm not exactly raging about it)
https://peakd.com/hive-138388/@riverflows/tea-with-the-crones
It definitely sounds like we're on the same page! I remember my Aunt saying the same thing about the mirror. It's kind of reassuring to me that she said she still felt good in her 80's. Twenty-five years is a good run, especially if you're truly awake and living in a conscious way. I'm finding patience to be my key lesson at the moment in so many different ways. Thank you for sharing the links to your poems. I'll check them out today!