Who would have thought
that at the age of forty one
I would be back here,
like a message in a bottle
washed up on a beach,
back to where it all began,
back to square one...
who would have thought
this would be my life -
still looking, still learning,
still believing, still falling from grace
whenever my feelings get the better of me,
still a part of a multi-layered
and multidimensional game
that ultimately cannot be won...
who would have thought that
someone could do so much,
that someone could feel so much,
that someone could meet so many others -
but still able to find themselves
waking up and asking themselves:
did that all really happen,
or was it all just a dream?
who would have thought
that with all the knowledge that someone
can accumulate over a life
that they can still at times feel
lost for words by new mysteries...
who would have thought
that my journey through life would be
like that of the path of a cyclist within a velodrome -
going around and around
in a constantly repeating circuit -
or like that of a man in maze
searching for the centre as well as a way out...
who would have thought
that I would still find a reason to smile
while witnessing the first light of the sun...
who would have thought
that every day I would still be surprised
by the world, by people, and by myself -
here and now, at the grand old age of
forty one.