How strange that old age has brought me here

To climb unaided a rockface

Cold and clammy to my feeble touch.

Fingers feel for crevices

Which, momentarily, will support a frame

wracked with the vicissitudes of wasteful living.

Pause, think; time to examine more closely

That clump of moss to which no rolling stone has become attached.

Now to decide.

To the left, descend a step or two or three

Then climb an incline to clutch a cornered overhang

Beyond which is a void of wild, exciting dreams

To the right, an upward swing

Like a chimpanzee may give me sight

Of something still waiting to be achieved

Both can cause a fall not to eternity

But to a new beginning

And the desire to put to right those things

Which were always wrong.

No, ´tis not worth the anguish or the blame

Just slice the rope and then regain

My state of graceful pain

by Roberto Cavaleiro - Tomar. 11 August 2025