Looking in My Mirror

I love looking at old things...
     lost negatives from famous photogs
          fading in country garage sales,
     precious parchments of Americana
          decaying in dusty thrift shops,
     tintypes of wild west gunslingers
          hanging in second hand stores,
     crumbling medieval chess sets
          hiding in boxes in dark attics,
     baseball cards from days of yore
          sitting on antique store shelves,
     rare bottles of Russian cognac
          fermenting in deep, damp cellars,
     and classic cars from slower times
          rusting in abandoned orchards,
     ...but not at my own old mug,
          staring back at me
               in my bathroom mirror.

As one's life moseys toward its end
     there is a certain tug and pull of hanging on
          and just letting go,
     there is surely a push and shove of moving on
          and standing still,
But most painful of all earthly pains
     is knowing what was once in our grasp
          will never be again.

I am so sad for times I hurt others,
     and cannot get them back to say in person:
          "I am sorry!"
I am so sad for opportunities I missed,
     and cannot revisit and take another shot:
          "Why did I worry?"
I am so sad for the times I was hurt,
     and could not see past the pain:
          "I still have much to bury."

I love looking at old and precious things...
     people in my life I loved and who loved me,
          loves I must be forever thankful for,
     my mother and father who let me live,
          there were times of second thoughts,
     my brothers and sisters who grew up,
          though, not because I helped them,
     my friends who tried to corrupt me,
          oh, the times I should have let them,
     my girlfriends, and too many wives
          I wish I had done it right the first time,
     my teachers and those who tried,
          so much for knowing now in the then,
     my children and all those so grand,
          they are a crown for the now aged,
     and my Lord and Savior who found me,
          who knew I was lost and loved me anyway.
     ...but still not at my own old face,
          and wondering why I'm still
               looking in my mirror.

Philippians 3:13-14

by J Alan R
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