Senility Ll Poem by Morgan Michaels

And the silently creaking music of the spheres
become momentarily audible, stopping you in your tracks-
really and truly is meant for your eyes alone
really and truly is meant for your ears, only
Such that would be a horrible loss to miss;

Such that, missing both, in the one informing instant
you might have stopped looking forever
you might have stopped listening forever-
and suddenly, everything makes sense
and you are given the solution to the stubbornest equation.

That is the moment of truest, luckiest senility
for which, alas, there is no cure
and, which if you live long and steadily enough,
may find you and return to roost-
nothing much mattering after or before.