The time has passed
in which the twig could bend;
awaken uplifted to a bright-eyed sun;
lay claim to its full legacy
with the comfort of nature's backing
and, at day's end,
caressed by tender winds,
frolic in a moonlit garden of blossoms.

I have heard it said:
if only I knew then what I know now,
how different I would have been.

Yet, I often think:
if only I had not been afraid
to partake of the things which I did know then,
how different I would now be.

For from a distance,
desire can breed obsession,
weakness can encourage excessiveness,
and regret can induce passivity.

I have read:
"Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind."

Yes, the twig is now brittle,
but I will no longer bemoan this state.
Instead, I will gain inspiration
from its determined posture.

For no distance is so great that
homage cannot be borne from desire,
nor strength from weakness,
nor action from regret.

And, even in the worst of times,
the Muses will appear,
the senses will rejuvenate
and the heart will beat heavily.