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Letting Go
The bacchanalian spirit has infused life
since memory began,
to shed our skin
laugh hysterically
drink some and
then some more
and not look back,
to sway,
to flirt,
to let go
and live past ordinary moments
in recognition of the valve
that is the ancient jester,
to love it all
and want even more, even
to regret it for a moment as
the guilt of our forebears
trampling our conscience,
then letting go once more
lest we become our elders
and live in despair
of a lost mythical age.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
parallax 
So true.
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This is a very well written poem.
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Many thanks 🙂
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So very moving, Paul.
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Thanks For sharing that Amy.
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Appreciated Charles
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Well written, love your work
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Thank you so much for that.
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You are welcome
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Beautiful!
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Many thanks Mia
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Great poem
>
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Thank you.
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Love it…lest we become our elders…
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Yes, lest we become our elders, down here I think we’ve become socially conservative.
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