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Mac Og  By  W. Bruce Watson
 
I

He had chased her into the woods. “To kiss her between the limbs,” he’d laughed. He’d sighed then, alone midst rampant, arboreal fecundity.

II

Within and through each bosky cupola he searched. “She’s nowhere to be found,” he wept. He sighed, enclosed within fold upon fold of verdant shrouds.

III

Endlessly has he called her name like some an ancient, Hafizian nightingale. “I will find out where she has gone,” he's vowed. He soughed, his hoary mane buoyant in air shimmering in resonance with the fluttering green canopy.

Epilogue

From beyond the void that darkness veils blows the gentle wind in which his tattered body sways, suspended high within a shimmering womb, gnarled arms enlaced with gnarled limbs. Upon his cooling, dying lips, her kiss now lingers.
 
 
 
The truth is, after much furrowing of brow, I can't think of anything to say by way of preface to my blog. Along the way I wondered what it's purpose might be and maybe I should say a few words about that and would, except that I don't know what its purpose is, or could be, or should be. I only know that my clock is winding down and I'm so desperate to have my mind known that I could just spit! Maybe my blog could be about that. But how depressing and pretentious that could be! But hold on a second, maybe not—my therapist commented the other day how in late adulthood (AKA elder years), one is forced to deal with the sense of loss, all the time, it's always there, and it's painful, it takes great faith to live on even though one knows it's going to end and that whatever they accomplish, if anything, is not going to matter all that much. How does one find meaning or a sense of fulfillment in life knowing that it’s coming to an end? Psychologists have not written much about this if anything. It's sort of an unexamined part of adult life. It takes a lot of self-discipline to function in spite of this sense of loss—it's so easy to give up on the constant struggle, on life. A lot of people do—drinking, TV, drugs, electrosex, So, if you'll bear with me, let us examine this unexamined part of adult life.
 
 
 
 
Copyright © 2011 W. Bruce Watson, Inc. All rights reserved.  
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