How short or long is a life lived —
In minutes, hours, days?
And in the ways we move with it —
How can it not amaze!
Just how we grow from seed to old
And find ourselves grown wise,
Almost in spite of ourselves,
Sunrise to sunrise.
And at what age do we conquer?
At what age do we relent?
At what age do we accept our fate?
At what age repent?
At what age do we stop dead
And contemplate our doubt?
At what age do we whisper?
At what age do we shout?
At what age do we stand
Upon a cliff beyond all fences,
And stare into the distance,
And come into our senses?
At what age do we smile
An inward sort of smile,
Because we’ve signed on
To walk the full mile.
—Gary Lindorff