These Are the Good Old Days
Often we look upon the past as golden,
remembering the joy we've had,
like so much sand we're holding,
and the tighter our grip,
the more we feel it slip,
the passion of living drains away,
drab by drop by drip.
The love and endless hope we've lost,
as age creeps up on us with such great cost.
So let's give the past its due,
just be careful not to let the past live you.
And it's just as empty if in the future we're caught,
filled with all our shoulds and oughts,
never finding the lasting happiness that is sought.
(I need this or that to be happy,
amounts to naught but a lot of crappy)
Present experience is where it's at,
to the eternal now we bow and tip our hat.
And if there we invest in freely chosen love,
we just may find the joy we've been dreaming of, without ever waking up