Adapt

Wasted I my time away.
Is this a fact I heard them say?

I fought the current of the time,
With conviction and opine.

To paddle proudly against the flow.
To get back to . . . I don’t know.

I have grown longer in the tooth.
Could such gall contain a truth?

My excuses sound pathetic.
As nasty truth’s often prophetic.

I wanted it to be the past.
The past that could never last.

The past was perfect, even though,
The current could slip in just so.

To break it up, break it down.
To destroy without a sound.

The next was there in latency.
And birthed by my complacency.

Life unfolded fore my eye.
And opportune did pass me by.

There are problems to be solved.
But only if I too, evolve . . .

No, there is no going back.
I must go with, I must adapt.

To bend and sway with the wind’s whim.
To be the water’s flow within.

To be better than before.
To allow the something more.

To let the current have its way.
And flourish in the ‘come what may.’