The Final Bend

Today I heard them say that things were now much better. That place, which I had founded by God's Grace And into which my soul was poured Now has new staff, directors and another board. It's changed from early years So when I come to chat, I sign a visit book And reception sometimes gives a sideways look To wonder 'who is he?' All that work, the self's esteem, confined to Annals on the shelf. It's come, it's gone And all is now a 'once has been'. My prime of life is slipping well behind, A runner slowing in his race and then Another pack begins to lap and overtake With faster pace than mine, now fading Eyes now counting every shortened stride, Still bright, though, still lifted to the finish line. Will it be a race well run? Too late to start from blocks again. Besides who wants the blows, the knocks The daily strain. For those who run Their life race well the finish is a passing line Another Starter's gun, a new race just begun And so this final turn upon the track Though slow, holds promise of a head Held high, and joyful shouts when passing by: 'Well done! Well done! a race well run! Now come and place your hand in Mine'