The Fog of Life thickens as I age.
Answers, reasons, connections, increasingly out of sight,
But If I sat down, stopped my thoughts, concentrated,
I assuredly would uncover something of value.
The effort required is the last remaining mystery of life,
A puzzle of the mind
That defies solving
Because it doesn’t get done
Even though the right move
Is as easy as warm breath fogging a window on a cold winter’s day
From a fool who believes there will be time later for solutions.
And this is the greatest tragedy of aging.
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