Ah, Hindsight

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Ah, Hindsight

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #160

Ah, hindsight, pretentious pontificating fool,
Thinkest thou the roads the past did trod
Made from wax, reed bending to thy will,
And fate a plaything to thy whim to yield?

The past is not all in certitude of the seen,
Below and above horizon of thy little eye
The unseen past lurks, future unforeseen,
As the patch thou seest is not all the sky!

Thy will and desire and aims are not all,
Thy life but a spear cast by many hands,
A web of ends are tethered to the soul
Venturing the ages for profound purpose.

Bring not memory that griping old crone
Replaying its pet woes like pain cherished,
For the road taken is the inevitable one
With each joy and hunger and vicissitude.

Of humility thou hast need in thy ignorance,
Mirror Him who stoops His infinity to immanence!