Ten years I journeyed toward the sun --
only to find my journey just begun,
and feeling little kindling for a new fire
to sustain my fading pilgrim desires –
I wanted to sit down.
of sleeping in other men’s beds;
of lodging in other men’s sheds;
of wearing other men’s threads;
of feasting where other men fed;
of dreaming in other men’s heads;
of saying what other men said;
of reading what other men read;
of leading where other men led;
of raising other men’s dead;
of nurturing what other men bred;
of driving other men’s sleds;
and, worst of all,
careening into other men’s dread.
Constant inconstancy has been my lot:
chasing the rainbow across the horizon, but not,
ever finding gold, or rest – even a warm cot.
But I march on, feebly, yet sure
of a new dawn, a new hope, a new cure
for all my old weariness,
and my waking sleeplessness.
I have been pulled onto the stage:
above is heaven;
below is hell.
I have ranted; I have raged,
but now I know. I hear the bell.
The best I can do is play my part,
and play it well --
Play it till my bitter end;
until, at last,
the new ending begins.