To myself, I write today:
"When you are five years old, or ten, or
fifteen, or twenty –
Consider what is your favourite:
Book
Television
Computer game
Word
Music
Feeling
Thing
Food, drink, sweets.
Write what it is and why
Put this paper carefully away in a box and
do not look at it again."
I continue:
"Then
When you are ten years old, or fifteen, or
twenty, or twenty-five
Consider what is now important:
Life
Love
People
Time
And anything else like the stuff above.
Write down what, where, why, when
Put the paper carefully away in the same
box and do not look at it again."
Still more, I write:
"Then
When you are fifteen years old, or twenty, or twenty-five, or thirty
When you are fifteen years old, or twenty, or twenty-five, or thirty
Consider what is your favourite:
Dream
And all the above.
Write it in your heart
And hold it with you forever."
Perhaps just one more:
"Then.
When you are twenty years old, or twenty-five, or thirty, or thirty-five
When you are twenty years old, or twenty-five, or thirty, or thirty-five
Consider what is your favourite:
Everything.
Write it with your heart
And hope another can read it."
And that is what I write to myself.
And so, and so, and so.
I say to myself today, at forty years old.
"Know only that you have had favourite:
Book
Television
Computer game
Word
Music
Feeling
Thing
Food, drink, sweets
Life
Love
People
Time.
And these were sometimes written, sometimes
not.
And that this, and only this, means to you
That you have had
Dreams.
Everything."
And one more whisper, perhaps:
"The writing of these favourites is
important,
If
Only to you."
And I listen.
And I hear a quiet, quivering reply:
"Well then.
That is enough for me."
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