~

Geeks slice pi to 5 trillion decimal places

~

We’ve been around since the beginning

Counting in our heads

Seeing patterns plus foundations

Otherwise ignored or misread

~

For many the tasks are cumbersome;

Unnecessarily complex

For us, though, the specialty lies

In subtracting what comes next

~

But honestly the role isn’t without its cons

And even for us the numbers have their weight

Divided away from even the appearance of normality

We function to prove wrong those who negate

~

~

It hits me only now that this image I’ve had of my mother, all this time

Has long been affectionately biased by the rosy tint of these youthful eyes

~

I am now at an age, corresponding closely to that time when she had me

Faced with a similar prospect of our lives changing ever irreversibly

~

I’ve known her only as my mum, an enriching role model for an only son

It makes me wonder how she was as a young woman and how we would have gotten on

~

Adulthood is thrust upon us so soon, often catching us unawares:

Not fully ready to undergo that morph into a generation of greying hair

~

The funny thing is that it was me who made her “mother” – a role she grew into perfectly

Almost as if we’ve educated each other in this life cycle of humanity

~

And through her constant love with all her wisdom gained and shared up until here

This next stage of existence an awakened latency, and one I needn’t fear

~

It’s the fear of seeing my old self

Complete with old ways, thoughts and habits

Taking over my consciousness and current existence of being

Causing me to resort, too easily, to a familiar self-destruction

~

This demon sees straight through my soul

Picking out casually like grapes my deepest and darkest fears

Exposing my weaknesses to me, displaying them with pride

Showing me the quickest and easiest solutions to all that I deny

~

I no longer see myself through my own eyes

But rather through those old ones back from some youthful place

The choices I have are those available to that lost and frightened child

An offered hand of love concealing an irreparably damaging knife

~

But I stare back at him today, reigning myself back in

I am not helpless nor prone, and he cannot frighten me

For I have changed since those days when he came to visit me those times

For I am older now, and have learnt of my own braveness to fight

~

Who I was then will not now dictate who I am now

Even if this old version of me insists he will still hang around:

He will serve usefully as a reminder of all I have lost

As well as all the wonderful things that I have since then found

~

Business Booming For Rent-a-Friend Agencies

~

I am a best man, an old friend, even a husband

For those who need that special someone

I never judge their motives nor their reasons

I am happy to put on that predefined face

~

For friendship isn’t just a case of reciprocity

Neither is it a process of bartering

It’s a sense of security that you feel when it’s there

A loss all too revealing of oneself when not

~

Family then is a different thing altogether

A knowledge of a comfortable home and a formal awkwardness

Where things that need to be said often never are

A festering buildup of internal disciplined frustrations

~

It’s often too uncomfortable, isn’t it?

To have society and friends and family on your back

That’s why I offer you my shell

To shield you from the strain

~

So call me Bob or Jack or William

I’ll be whoever it is you need

My going rate is fairly reasonable, I think

Allowing you to focus on only who you want to be