When I consider how my life is spent
(wrong noun of course , but please don't pick me up
I am not blind in the poet's physical sense .)
No .
My blindness lies in a myriad of missteps
Taken when young , when middle aged , when old --
When I consider that , I ask , would I agree
With Omar's dictum about the Moving Finger
or wish to change what I have done ?
Of course I would !
There are a thousand times ,
indeed a thousand thousand small events
that I 'd remould into a life more rational , more bold .
But bold in thought , not bold in mere emotion ,
There are those causes that I wish I 'd fought --
Friends I would not have left ; nor would have left behind
Those scarred relationships , now scattered far and wide .
And for each cicatrice I've left on those around me
I carry a knotted node of flesh within myself .

But it's all done now , and it's a final fate
to serve no longer , merely sit and wait