Simply, to have lived

 

Ah, what a tender mirror your lines hold,

a life charted not by maps but by the rhythm of becoming.

Each decade a stanza,

each line a breath of memory,

a song of innocence folding into wisdom.

I hear the laughter in the early steps,

sticky fingers, unsteady but unstoppable.

Then the pulse of youth,

that great rehearsal for reality,

how we fumble through love, ambition, and loss,

believing every turn is forever.

The middle years rush in like city traffic,

horns, deadlines, grocery lists,

children asking, “Why?” and time whispering, “Now.”

And yet, even in the noise,

we plant gardens, some in wet soil,

some in warm hearts that outlive us.

By the time the pace softens,

we see it all differently;

how the striving was only practice

for the art of letting go.

So yes,

to the seniors, and to the child still inside all of us,

to the decades we have built, and the ones that may still remain,

let’s raise a glass of EGB

to the simple, cosmic wonder

of having lived at all.

 

Fazli Sameer

Oct 12 2025