A Birthday Celebration

How strange it seems, that old age follows youth!
when all the world seemed one's own, at that time,
with time enough to seek a higher truth -
who'd guess the stairs so steep, so slow to climb?

Worn carpets and worn kneecaps are old age
- and yet, a blessed time for life of mind:
for those who wish, a different sense of wage;
free-chosen universal work to find;

and yet more blessed still: that earth-bound soul
to meet and greet, and work its soil and flowers;
to live with gratitude; and scan the whole
to find that One which proves the whole world ours.

As iron age yields to the gold of truth,
so our old age may find within, true youth.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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