The Needle - Poem by John Enright
I know that, in the clutter called my life,
In the tumbled haystack of my mind,
There is a space of total innocence -
Pristine, untouched, and fresh - original -
Where I am one with you, and all-that-is.
I can't live there - I rarely even get to visit.
At times my certainty that it exists grows dim.
But, small and secret though it is, I am sustained.
The View From 65 How precious few the days that now remain.
Should I complain that I woke up so late?
Or thank you, God, that I woke up at all!
With time still left to love, time to create.
I'm living my life backward, so it seems.
Most folk retire when it gets this late.
But here I am, still chasing after dreams,
And trying to make a difference in our fate.
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