Bitter Wisdom

Fragile, the shell, failing, windows dimming,
The locks graying and sparse, moving swiftly
Unto the final end of my travels,
I can't fathom the suddenness of the
Climax that lies firmly in my future.

Endless are the regrets, and the foolish
Actions behind in the previous years.
Remorse is the constant, lurking escort
Of the agèd pilgrim at the last mile,
Berating him in the dolorous way.

Water that's spilled unto the earth can't be
replaced in the vessel ever again;
Chances that fly away never return
Again for one single, fleeting visit.

The youth, at the journey's initial start,
Had not a clue all the mourning that was
Ahead of him. The truths of life had been
Obscured until I found morose wisdom
Hardly purchased with age and much sorrow.

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