The Heart Speaks of Its Days

it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
When I am young
They will accuse me
Saying, "What tender shoot
From earth breaks
And mere grass speaks
As though it were a man?"

And when I am young
What shall I say
In my defense, or
Against those who bring
Bitter words to rest
On my tongue's end?

When I am ripe
As men of this age
See their glass
From our loftiness
I shall watch it run
Out the bottom

And when I am wiser
Will I stooped, see
The bottom of my
Glass brimming with
Spent days bright
Like gold and ash;

When I am wiser
I will forget
My ignorance,
And remember
The bright thunder
Of my first joy:

But when I am old
Finally at last my
Glass will be full
Of years and I
Shall drink deeply
Of my days and die.

1 comment:

  1. May the Ancient of Days grant you a joyous return to His bosom where you will again find the bright thunder of your first joy! Keep imbibing the drops of His grace and by the time you die, it won't matter how many years you've spent on this earth. In Christ, you shall be young eternally!

    I love you, my dearest.


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