SD (8/16/51 / New York, New York...U.S.A.)

Almost Too Late

By Steve Downs @2008

When it’s almost too late I value
The dancing of trees in wind
The spring in my step
And the warmth of a loved ones touch.

A moment of silence, divorced from the world.
A step outside myself to wonder at the scheme of things,
Come back in an instant, against my will to live in the here and now.

When it’s almost too late I see
People as they are, imperfect in their wonder.
The wretchedness of wasted circumstance
Things I wish I had not said or done and done not whispered.

Too late, excuses run through my mind.
I hope for one more chance to do what I knew was true…
and did not do.

Forgiveness for cowardice I carried with me and did not discard.
From everyone and myself.

To speak and say what went through my wit and not my mouth.
Knowing the truer part was left unsaid.
Lest I come to a painfulsplace and have need to retrace my words to an easier place
And so not lose what I know is required…by me.

Oh, to cross that great divide between the here and departed
And to know, they knew my intention better than my deed.
But the past is behind me, solid without change or repair.

When I finally know, or think I know.
The obscurity still surrounds me but I’ve stumbled almost everywhere
And so I feel, I think, I know.

There’s an ease of spirit replaced by a disease of what remains.
Growing things die and return. Did I not grow?
I know I’ve changed but change is not always growing.
Knowing not always known and doing… seems seldom done.

When it’s ended will I miss it all?
Or be missed at all?
Or simply fall? To be cleaned lest I offend.

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