If my days are numbered
I seem to have lost count
If some memories are true
And others not, I can’t tell them apart
It seems there’s nothing left to do
But be here with whatever turns up
I just wish I could do that
With more energy and more care
Thank goodness this weariness will pass
Since everything else always does.
Be here now… world weariness describes it. But it is passing! Thanks for this poem!