I was reflecting upon my irascible nature and sharpening my scythe tonight, when I realized how much I need laughter to bring focus to my existence and keep my ego from making my Scottish/Irish head any bigger. Laughter truly is the seasoning for the sauce of my tears, and leaven for defense against fears. Yet, the deep recognition of the sheer absurdity of so much of my story drives me toward my role as curmudgeon.
Laughter drives the turbines of life,
And lives as wind in the sails of our souls;
Diverting quiddity of strife -
Setting the pace for the race to our goals.
Ere this sanguine mythology
Descends around my sleek spiral newel -
Seeking dramatis personae,
And reaching for the nubilous jewel -
Tears turn the wheels that close the door,
Sealing its touch away from me,
And yet I fall upon the floor -
Remaining in certain propinquity.
Laughter reveals my role as a gudgeon,
And that's why I am such a curmudgeon!