fickle, oh so fickle are the days where
one day my spirit is enthralled just by
opening mine eyes to awaken to the
morning’s delight, walking thru my day’s
sojourn and then waving at the sun as it
lays to rest for the day and i smile at the
stars and moon as they arrive to watch
o’er life’s nocturnal stay
the next day my arms and legs, my mind
recognize the many years worn and the
feebleness of my body and spirit to rise
and greet the day wondering what will
come of it, not in
joyous exuberance but
in the challenges that may occur to wane
my lifting spirit or to cause my heart to
lament and mine eyes filled with tears
i beckon the spirit of the universe to share
with me its wisdom as to how to make a
choice that will lift me once more to that
time when once my youth filled spring of
spirit abound and these cruel years of age
with the pangs be assuaged and the angst
of life’s slings mitigated, so that my years
left, and i will rise to the delight of day
and sleep gently in the night
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