In the winter of my life,
I contemplate the sacred writing
revealed by Baha'u'llah
and weep.
I cry
because I know,
that no matter how long I have left
on the physical plane,
I will never be able to read
and meditate on
more than 1%
of those scriptures.
This poem is also posted in Writing in Snow located in my writing.com port under the folder Awardicon Items. I am Prosperous Snow.
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