1826 – 1904
When you live as long as I lived.
When you keep breathing day after day after day.
You learn to not take life so seriously.
For alas, in this sensuous garden called Earth,
There are a multitude of flowers and herbs.
Of smooth stones and pungent shrubs and scented briars.
Of wild roses and prickly blackberry thorns.
I recall the faces, both masculine and feminine,
And I remember their words and muted whispers.
Sometimes they barked and beguiled.
And sometimes they hit you full force in the face
With their silent stubborn stares.
But we are all God’s children, here in his garden.
And I, for one, was the least with the most.
If I could live only one day over again,
I would choose the day I would have lived.
After I stopped living.