When you look back at yourself many years from now, and ask
whether you lived the way you determined you should, do the thing
expected and ponder whether life could have been greener; but do this
with the knowledge that there is more to you now, as then, than you
realize; and whatever you do, do not look too deeply, for the life you
chose was just that: a choice. It was given to you. You did not earn it,
and you will not keep it, so do from here on the things you were afraid
to do, and say from here on the things you wished you had before. Then,
when you've finished wandering the broad halls of regret, look then
straight ahead, into your own eyes, and know that you were and are a
gift from the Father, whose life gave meaning to those around you,
whether you knew it or not. Every life is a life of
substance, whose value will become all the clearer when you stand with
the one who made it. "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror,"
Paul declares. "Then we shall see face to face." Live the rest of your
life, then, knowing that there is in you a light from the Father, in
whose radiance you will soon stand, free from accusation.
This wasteland cold and dark runs free Its fearful creatures speak to me One fateful day one nudged my hand To set my eyes upon a tree He knew I could not understand For I was in his native land His signs became our common speech To lead me through the deadly sand Now stuck I saw him me beseech He could not lift me out to reach The firm foundation of a cave Outside the boundaries of this beach Withal, the beast became more brave To risk his own my life to save To carry me, its life it gave To carry me, its life it gave. This poem was inspired by Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." That poem, like this one, has four four-line stanzas of eight syllables per stanza. Its rhyme scheme is AABA BBCB CCDC DDDD.
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