One cannot take leave forever

There is a man of substance in those old clothes,

As I age, destiny becomes clear,

How foolish what I once swore to become!

This morning I woke and likened myself to Jesus,

Said to myself in those waking moments to love those I despise,

And everyone else on lonely pilgrim road.

At last ambition abandoned, too large to be useful,

Despite middle age flab and bald patch plate,

willing to endure hardships for a green planet,

When the coffin closes the matter settled,

But such aims look too unsettled in fulfilment,

In my latter years – worries for masses of common folk.

Endless suffering for them at storm break,

I have sighs and my gut burns within,

When I offer a way (to green glory) am scorned,

By conservative friend; “I want just old ways –

Unchanging golden days, no storm, fire or pestilence,”

Yet I remain with these times and sing out even more loudly.

It is not that I don’t want to play on the beach,

Dance on the waves, O I remember that serene bliss,

– and see days and months pass,

aloof and idle, But I live in this age of the change

When the glory comes ready,

And one cannot take leave forever.