FADE

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Fade… by Christine Wichman c. May 7, 2017

Aging is like fading, every day I become a little bit more invisible.

Youth had hope and it’s own kind of magic,

every cell in my body was awake and alive.

I recall my joy in better days,

as I see my eighties and nineties bands being inducted into the hall of fame.

I remember their songs, like blood through my veins.

Who will be my savior now?

There is no new music that moves me or shakes me to the core, no revolution, no alchemy.

Maybe it’s my fault, I don’t have the hunger to follow crumbs along a path.

I just wait for the truth to come knocking at my door.

I’ve given up the chase of always seeking more.

I use to dive deep to uncover all the messy layers,

but now I’m just coming up for air.

From the depths I’ve risen to life at the surface; simple, clean and neat.

My only fear is leaving here unfinished, incomplete.

The Ocean sings to me, that love is always alive,

be it the age of silver, or the dawn of gold

time should not be measured to make us feel old.

Life is in the moments we take right here and now,

any way the wind blows, is the way I’ll go.