I used to fear becoming old
And getting weaker by the day
And feeling how my blood ran cold
Since all life’s heat had gone away.
But, nowadays, I better see
The calm within the autumn storm;
The part which ages isn’t me,
But just my outward, earthly form.
As ever-present as the now
And endless as the cosmic all,
I’m not required to take a bow
Or watch the final curtain fall.
Though short of step and weak of lung,
I’m always and forever young.
Photo by Jonathan Cosens Photography on Unsplash
