Another whirlwind around the Sun,
What is the best you have done?
Managed to not drop dead,
Even though a million versions have been through your head.
So you sit there quite alone,
Evaluating why you have not grown;
Another thought, another vision,
Another reason to lack inclusion.
When you're old, the world slows down,
And two yesterdays are profound;
Start again? Find courage in your old sash?
Or re-stash the old trash?
There's always that flicker, that little glare,
That little bastard, that won't declare;
Candle alit, God's Eye,
And you old wind, will continue to deny.
