50th Birthday

Counting down to my 50th birthday,
a splash of depression overcomes me;
looking back on a half a century,
reveals I have nothing profound to say.

Dismally time slips out of my hands,
my youthful ideals have fallen astray;
motivating dreams are now castaways,
I am chocking and sinking in quicksand.

I have sought a purpose that eludes me,
I do not feel wise, I feel exhausted;
I cling to time that before I wasted,
the crystal ball is cloudy, I can’t see.

A tiny voice shouts this is outrageous,
giving in to doldrums is not the way;
fight to keep ugly sensations at bay,
avoid dark feelings which are contagious.

I listen to my tiny voice of hope,
the black mood lifts and I feel like dancing;
on my 50th I will be prancing,
at my party no one will see me mope.