Alas!
The end is near!
Turbulent winds surround my ears and eyes!
I see the truth yet the indestructible walk away from my voice!
What is the calling of the blind that they must walk without a voice?
What is the calling of the deaf that they dance without a jacket?
But about the travails of our youth.
Who goes to the corner without their pudding?
Who goes to the jar of chocolate without putting on his mittens?
Who walks alone when they are but three?
But what does the future tell us of our arrogance?
What will we smile for when we are eighty three and two months?
What will we laugh at when our knees knock with bitterness due to the wrath of arthritis?
But of course we age with gladness and we sip our tea with a dry wick of ownership of our anger.
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