In the twilight of life,
at the turning point
upon the hill of habit,
shall I descend the other side,
or garner my wings and fly?
Having not remembered my Creator,
until the days of my youth were past,
I am caught midway in the flight of fancy
by a torrent of wind that creates resistance
to change, even for the betterment of my soul,
as I make an effort everyday to find my way.
Teshuvah, the all embracing, ever pervasive remedy
seems sometimes so far out of my reach,
and unless I gather my strengths together,
to teach myself how to fly,
I will reside in the shadows of my past,
consumed by regret, plagued by unrealized dreams,
crushed by the heaviness of being,
and defeated by the lethargy of inactivity.