I am life, until I am death. It might seem that middle-age is half way between the two, but you are much longer dead than alive. In one body anyway. So in middle-age you are still life. Moreover, your life might live on through your descendants, or you could be reincarnated, or just your life remembered in memories, history and the arts.
I hope you don’t mind the slightly maudling introduction, but I’m just trying to connect Marc Latham’s latest Folding Mirror poem with the next reflection from his 242 Mirror Poems and Reflections book.
I fear I may have indulged in a little introspective philosophising myself.
Reflection 16 mirrored Middle-Age Memories, a poem posted on fmpoetry.wordpress.com in May 2012. It was:
Our age is one of great importance,
for it is the only one we’ll know.
New Mirror Poem
That reflection does have some connection to Marc Latham’s latest Folding Mirror poem, freshly imported into the greenYgrey world today.
After the top half of the poem focuses on natural inspirations in the outer world, the bottom half focuses on how our mind interprets those prompts. Here it is:
Entrancing Haze, Thoughtful Phase
moon never told a story
ocean didn’t create a rhyme
but waves can sound sublime.
sun wouldn’t sing a song
air can’t write musical lyrics
but wind can breeze idyllic.
natural noise, interpretative imagination
hearing sounds sparks creative cell
nervous system neurons spark new
ingenious ideas begin to brew .
however our brains have evolved
knowledge from more silent times
cultural memes travelling laid lines.