Older person getting older: Thoughts
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2001-05-28 19:52:47 (UTC)

Amen Brother Whitman

I hear the children outside my window. In the distance a
faint roar of my neighbor cutting his grass. A spring
breeze passes through the room. Music whispers sweet love
songs. The aroma of cornish hen; dinner will soon be done.
I recall the poem Walt Whitman wrote. The verse spoke of
being allowed to play his or her role in life; Choosing a
voice. This, I owe my life choices to. It is this, that
gives me the strength and courage to continue...even if
continuance seems futile.

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d
with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish
than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of
the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid
crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these,
O me, O life?


That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a

Amen Brother Whitman.