Frighteningly high mountain cliffs, from a distance,

And in evening light, may appear as a smooth, soft and safe wonder to us.

And a life with missteps, and drops and falls into this or that plunging cravass,

May later, near the end, appear a softer and more beautiful thing.

How we chose to remember what was sharp or hard or full of harm will make it what it was to us.

With but a little more distance we might yet remember,

That at our psyche’s shocking birth we were astonished,

In puberty thrilled.

In our middle years we were astounded.

In old aged sat amazed.

And in the end, dreamily drifting down death’s deep drop, if we so choose,

We may find that we are knocked over and ploughed under with wonder