I thought I understood.
I thought I was wise.
These many years later,
I realize…

What I have with me,
Is not what I’ve used.
I tried to make things happen.
I've not been amused.

I'm taking a new look
At that poem speaking to me,
And writing a new book,
With a new history.

Hearing these words: "at all times."
Makes me stop dead cold,
With no further rhymes.
Makes me still and empty,

And able to listen again.
It isn't the "figuring out"
That is the point and aim.
At all times is a gift-wrapped
In ego and games.