FOR MICHAEL

It is 5:00 am and the second day of the New Year. I wish I was one of those people who could sleep late, but of course when you usually go to bed by nine you are going to wake up early. I had to get up very early for years so my body is adjusted to doing just that. But I think it would be neat to be all curled up and sleep tIll ten. I think the cool people are the ones who stay up late. Night people they call them. I think they are the creative ones probably sipping wine at 2:00 am and listening to music. Maybe that's why I never got anywhere with my writing, I went to bed too early and it stunted my creative juices.. I would prefer to tell myself that instead of I wasn't talented enough. But I love the early mornings, when everything is just starting anew and anything seems possible. The day lays out before you and with anticipation you wonder what lies in the hours ahead. At night it is all most all over but then again I guess it could depend on where you are are at 2:00 am in the morning. Maybe more goes on than I know about. I probably am at the stage of my life I don't want to find out now.

I have a Young friend I correspond with, his name is Michael.. Michael is in the process of getting his life turned around, regrouping so to speak. We all have in our life's made decisions that turned out to be wrong. Then it is so easy for these actions to snowball and soon we have wound ourselves up so tight in that first mistake we cannot get loose from it. I have done it, many of us has. But what I am so thankful for is that God sees us in such a different way then others do. He sees us as his child and he is forgiving, so much more that we humans are. I would really be in big trouble if I did not believe that with all my heart.

Micheal is quiet, has a poets heart and a gentle soul. And Michael likes poetry. And even better than that he likes WB Yeats. How much better can it get. . So this morning I am writing this blog for Michael. He will not read it but it is for him. I believe he will be able to overcome his obstacles and become the man I know he wants to be. So I am posting one of WB Yeats poems. Please if you are not a poetry lover, just take a second to read it. Poetry can calm your soul or at least I believe that to be so.

When You are Old
by W. B. Yeats


When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.