I’m already older than I can grasp
and getting older still, breath by breath and
beat by beat, nothing to be done, but go
on going on, try to find melody

In the succession of my own moments,
how they slip away and take me with them,
even as they leave me at once behind
and ahead, dazed and dazzled, old and new

Yes, there’s the riddle, that though I’m older,
I come in each instant alive anew,
fresh and free in my own slight company,
perhaps more frail but unbroken yet

I know my destiny, that not to be
is being’s end, soon, too soon – old story

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