Seventy times around the sun,
seventy times to see anew.
I am nearer now to the future
than I’ve ever been.
My past is more present than it used to be.
But more than ever, I am in the present.
Though I have let go of more than ever,
now there is more of me than ever.
Memories move inward. I care less and less
whether my house burns down.
Daily I acquire clarity of the precipice
I’ve been standing on all my life.
How much of the earth has become me,
and of me has become earth?
Bad knees are a small price to pay
for this journey.
Of all I have brought with me I treasure most
All of it—the grave, the world, this life,
this day—is an opening, opening.
Every day can be
a birth day.
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