It strikes me as utterly strange

that Anna's youngest grandkids

- the twins Harry and Ville, 18 months old -

will consider me, if at all,

as an anonymous shadow out of the past,

only experienced, perhaps, as an insignificant name,

fleeting past in some adult conversation,

at the best in a story of some exotic behaviour of mine

that survives me,

though, at the time of writing, at almost 74,

I work so hard, out of lust and inspiration,

with exercise, sound art and poetry

in a life full of life, eagerly absorbed

in project after gigantic project,

just for the pleasure of working

and applying what only I can apply,

with the individual flavour that I have been allotted,

and which all people, in their own ways, possess,

whether they're aware of it or not

So where does it all fit together?

Where does it connect?

Because surely all things do connect,

in the generative fabric of the Tao

And some day

later generations will listen

as Ville's and Harry's names breeze by

like autumn leaves in a flurry,

themselves long gone,

shadows of old men

having served well;

their offspring fulfilling new worlds

as far as imagination reaches,

where last breaths are waves

to surf

under new suns